


Isobel Trevelyan, Inquisitor and Herald

by Ohsoverysensible



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Backstory, Domestic, Dragon Age Inquisition, Dragon Age Spoilers, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Implied abuse, Romance, Skyhold, Smut, characterization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-02-21 13:37:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 71,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2470181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohsoverysensible/pseuds/Ohsoverysensible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A group of one-shots based on my character from Inquisition. Each Chapter is an event/stand alone moment, prone to being reordered. Mainly dealing with the Inquisitor and Cullen, but other characters appear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Magic Is Required

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobel Trevelyan spent her entire life being told to keep her magic controlled. No one ever taught her how to let it burst forth, how to let it succeed. Holding it back her whole life caused it's own difficulties, but being thrown into the Inquisition meant Isobel needed training. Even if some people wouldn't like it.

She had armour now.

The warm wool shirt she wore beneath the thick leather tunic was a pale blue, a colour Isobel had actually been allowed to choose. When she'd met with the blacksmith, she hadn't imagined he would be so surprisingly kind to her. She expected his reaction to be more like everyone else's; a little bit of awe met with a good amount of fear. After all, Herald of Andraste or not, Isobel was a mage.

And people were afraid of mages. Isobel herself was afraid sometimes too.

But now she had armour. It was light and malleable, and she didn't feel as constricted as she imagined she would. She'd never worn armour in her life, and the feel of it against her body made her feel sturdy and protected. Proud. Isobel wasn't used to pride, and she had to admit she somewhat liked the feeling of confidence over anxiety. But what did she have to be proud of? A devastating force lay inside her, made dormant by years upon years of training to keep it all inside. All the Circle had ever taught her was how to keep it under control, keep it from causing a problem. She was grateful for knowing how to avoid demonic temptation, but the majority of her skill was focused on repression. 

Sometimes it didn't help. Sometimes, Isobel's fingers sparked with magic if she was agitated or afraid. Sometimes she froze and took slow breaths in order to keep her power in check. And she'd been told for years that this was natural, normal, and that she  _should_ do it. Other mages used to whisper to her, tell her that they knew what her bristling power meant; that she was powerful. Or that she had the potential to be. But that potential would never be met, at least not at Ostwick.

But ever since the Circles fell, and ever since the Conclave was destroyed, all Isobel had seen were mages using their gifts to their full advantage. Isobel had thrown fire here and there, and shot sparks just enough to keep herself and those around her safe. But the power wasn't there. She couldn't push it through enough to do any kind of real damage, and as she walked through Haven in her new armour, she felt like a fraud.

They'd given her a staff. A beautiful, powerful staff that she did no justice to, and it was strung across her back like a constant reminder that she didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve the praise everyone gave her either, or the fear. Isobel could quite literally do no harm. She could singe clothing, maybe give a static shock, and just perhaps cool off a hot bowl of soup.

She was an absolutely useless mage, being looked at like a saviour.

But what could she do? There were a few mages around her, but most of them looked at her skeptically. Isobel's insecurities told her their looks meant they knew she was hopeless, but in reality they just didn't know what to say to her. She didn't know what to say to them either. 

There were Templars enough, she'd noticed sadly, but she definitely couldn't approach them for any kind of help. She'd never seen Templars as helpful or caring or understanding. They were pillars of strength and terror. That's all.

But...Isobel blinked and stared as she came up the snowy steps towards the apothecary. She was bringing him a few herbs she'd found on the outskirts of Haven, along with some notes he'd asked for, when she realized. The thought hit her so suddenly that she stopped walking and just stared, the gears whirling in her mind as she planned and plotted, trying to find the courage in her armoured chest.

Solas was half leaning and half sitting on a crumbling wall, a book in his hand and an easy expression on his face. Isobel just kept blinking at him as he turned a page, shifted his feet, and eventually caught her eyes. 

Isobel was stubborn, sometimes a little brash, but also oddly soft and cautious; a strange mix born from the need to protect herself in any situation. It was difficult for her to be the first one to speak sometimes, even though she had a good heavy layer of humour and sarcasm saved up in her vocabulary. But she pushed herself towards him as he watched her approach with a subtle interest.

Solas raised a brow at her and closed the book just slightly as she stopped. "Hello," he said gently after she stayed still and silent.

Isobel hesitated for a split second. "Solas," she started awkwardly, plastering a smile to her face and walking forwards. He closed the book completely now and waited for her poorly constructed sentence to escape. "I'm wondering if I may...If I might ask you a rather odd question."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry?"

"I just have something I'm wondering about," she struggled. "That perhaps...perhaps you may help me with. There's quite literally no one else I can ask." Isobel chuckled softly and scratched at the back of her neck. Her tight bun was pulling at the little hairs there, and she was somehow even more aware of it in this strained conversation.

When she looked back to Solas she noticed he was very gently, almost barely smirking. "Forgive me, but are you asking me for a favour?"

"I am," she said at last. "I was...wondering if you could maybe teach me how to fight."

He looked surprised a moment, and Isobel chuckled nervously again, but slowly his face turned to understanding. "I imagine your Circle training was lacking on the subject," he realized.

Isobel gave a little nod and lowered her voice. "They were more focused on control than anything else."

"I was under the impression most Circle mages were trained in combat," Solas wondered. "On the chance that they be asked to serve in war."

"You would think that," Isobel scoffed bitterly. "My Circle upbringing was a little...different. So I hear. They taught us how to handle our powers, how to keep them from acting up when we didn't want them to, but that was all. They weren't keen on teaching us how to use our curse aggressively."

"Curse?" Solas immediately spat.

Isobel looked up with a slight blush. "Gift."

"You said curse," he said.

"I meant gift."

Solas eyed her skeptically, and Isobel tried to keep eye contact so as to not look suspicious, but she knew he could see the truth in her face. They'd never once told Isobel she had a gift, something special that set her apart. They told her she was cursed with magic, and she had to learn to control it or let it destroy her and those she loved.

"I will show you what I know," Solas said, breaking Isobel's momentary melancholy. "Though my methods may be considered unorthodox."

"I'll take what I can get," Isobel smirked. "I'd really rather not die in the field, and right now I feel completely useless."

"You are not useless," Solas said, standing up off the wall and facing her with a slight smile. "Though you will forgive me if I admit you are in need of practice."

Isobel frowned a moment, but Solas gave her a little chuckle and bow.

"Where...can we go to...?" Isobel mused, looking about at all the people walking here and there.

Solas held his out towards the tiny clearing Isobel had just come from. "There is a little more seclusion away from the Chantry proper. Perhaps we will have more privacy in the trees."

Isobel nodded. "Lead on then," she said, and he gave her yet another small smile before heading off.

They made their way to the clearing with surprisingly few stares. No one seemed to question two apostates meandering about Haven of their own free will. The world was in such chaos when it came to magic and mages that people actually seemed afraid to ask, afraid to question. People got upset if you said anything rude, but there were other people ready to argue if you were too kind. One thing was for sure, however; magic was required. 

It was necessary. The breach in the sky could tell anyone that much. No matter what caused it, things would be forever changed. They changed when the circle fell in Kirkwall, and they changed when the Blight sent people scattering. And the world would change again, now that the Fade was ripped open.

Isobel came to a stand still in the middle of an open space, a small meadow of sorts, with the outlying trees just far enough away to not pose a risk. Solas came past her a ways with his hand at his chin, apparently ruminating on some subject. "Are we launching right in then?" Isobel smirked.

"Unless you've something further to discuss?" Solas wondered, turning around and cocking his head to the side.

She smiled softly. "Show me what you've got."

Solas gave a light chuckle before clasping his hands behind his back. "I have seen you cast. And I admit, I have analyzed it enough to recall points where you could improve."

"Well thanks," Isobel said saucily.

"You misunderstand," Solas clarified. "I do not mean to say you are a poor shot, or a poor mage. Merely that you lack a kind of...rawness. A rawness necessary for battle magic, I believe."

"Rawness?" Isobel repeated skeptically. "I was always taught that letting yourself be free with your powers would lead to certain destruction."

Solas laughed softly. "They  _did_ want to keep you controlled. You believe I handle my magic well?"

"Yes," Isobel nodded.

"And you are aware, naturally, that I had no teacher."

"I had a feeling."

"Then allow me to show you what I've learned," Solas said. He took a few steps back from her as if to see her entire form. "Stand as if you were ready to cast."

Isobel felt awkward with Solas' steely blue eyes on her. He didn't seem to blink much, and he was unlike any other elf she'd met. Then again, the only other ones she'd come across were mages who had been forced into a tower like herself. Most were City Elves, but every now and then a captured Dalish would be thrown into the tower. But Solas was neither, and that meant he was something of a wild card to Isobel. 

Still, she did as he said, unstrapping her shiny new staff from her back and taking on the stance she'd been conditioned to dropping into.

Instantly she saw Solas frown. "You are very...controlled."

"And?" Isobel asked.

"And that is not necessarily a good thing," Solas explained. He walked over to her and she held her pose as he investigated. "Bend your knees further. You should not have them locked."

"Why?" she asked, doing as he said.

"Because you would be too easy to knock over that way," he explained. "With even a small bend in your legs, you have more stability, more...recoil. But do not crouch. And turn to the side a small ways. That way you a smaller target, and you have a better ability to lean away from incoming ranged attacks. Forward, or backward."

Isobel sighed. "Now it feels as if I'm  _very_ unstable."

"Slide your right leg back then," Solas explained, and he reached out as if to touch at her knee, but Isobel quickly moved her leg before his hand could hit. "Bring your hand more to the centre of your staff," he went on easily. "If you hold it too far back, there is a chance it could be dropped or knocked away."

"If I'd known there were so many things wrong, I might not have asked," Isobel complained with a frown.

He smirked at her. "Would you prefer to die, then?"

She glared at him through her lashes. "Alright. I understand."

He moved aside. "Now cast. Something simple for now."

Isobel sighed and stared ahead into the clearing. Without a target, this felt like a moot point, but with her newly adopted stance and her staff in her hand, she pulled the magic forth. She whipped her staff round just at her hip, a small cast, but a ball of thick fire went shooting out into the air. It fizzled before it could connect with anything, but Isobel could feel a new strength in that spell. It almost made her laugh.

"Good, again," Solas said.

And she did. This time, the little ball of flame went a little bit further, and she could feel the stability of her stance as her feet dug into the snow. When Isobel looked back to Solas, she expected to see a tiny bit of teacher's pride in his eyes. At least something. Something more than a frown. "What?" she asked.

He dropped his hands from across his chest and walked towards her. "You are still very controlled. I believe you are holding back. You needn't worry, we are far enough away."

But Isobel shook her head. "I'm not holding back."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! That's the problem!" Isobel complained. She sighed and lowered her voice. "I'm not holding back. Well I mean I  _am_. But only because I've been told to hold back my entire life."

"Forget what they taught you," Solas said, almost cutting her off. He looked at her face a moment, then at her hand, and then his lips twitched. "Give me this," he said, reaching for her staff. She let him take it but she felt almost naked without it. She watched him walk away and lean the staff up against a small tree trunk, then when he turned back to her he looked almost excited.

"Close your eyes," he told her.

"Why?" Isobel immediately asked.

He chuckled. "It will be easier to concentrate that way. Close your eyes."

Isobel sighed but she did it, slowly and skeptically, and when her eyes were closed Solas said, "Face forward now, but bend your knees like before. Now. Bring the magic up, but hold it. Keep it in."

Isobel gulped. She channeled from her legs most of the times, and she could feel them start to tingle with electric force, which she twisted and turned into a burning fire. It felt like it was going to singe her trousers. "It burns, though," she hissed.

"Do not fear your magic," Solas said, his voice nerve-wreckingly close. "It will not harm you. It cannot. Keep it in, but feel it in your stomach, not your chest. When you conjure flame, it is more about the breath than anything else. Breathe easily, normally."

"I've never seen you cast fire," Isobel rebutted.

She heard Solas give a little chuckle, but he never actually argued. "Let it build. Let it slip past the wall of control you've built around your power. It will not bite you, nor anyone else around you. The only time it will is if you let it."

Isobel's fingers turned into fists, and she could feel her nails digging into her palms. Her eyes were shut tight against the bursting sensation in her body, but it felt invigorating. She felt alive and free and powerful and strong, as if her whole body was full of a fire all her own.

"Now," Solas said as Isobel gritted her teeth. He spoke slowly, and as he did Isobel could tell he was backing away. "With a  _small_ amount of that practiced control... _release!"_

She did, and from her heart she could feel the passion and the fire. The spell came to her as if it were a reflex, and without a staff in her hand she channeled the power through her stomach and out from her body, as if she alone conducted it. Small little streams of fire flooded out from her as she exhaled sharp, and they snaked their way into he world with a strong purpose, finding their way to a small tree in the distance and bursting it into flames.

Isobel's eyes went wide, and for once in her life she stared at the flames she'd made with complete and utter pride. Solas appeared at her side, and with a brisk wave, he doused the flames with a sheet of ice and turned to smile at her. Isobel felt out of breath, but she was ecstatic. Never in her life did she imagine she had that kind of power! All this time it had just sat there, waiting and wanting, and she realized now that she'd struggled with this gift only because she was made to be ashamed of it.

But she didn't feel ashamed right now.

"Have you gone mad?!"

Isobel and Solas turned sharply, meeting the gaze of someone who instantly made Isobel drop her head and clasp her hands together in front of her. She was so used to that tone of voice, that scolding sound, that it absolutely ruined her momentary progress. It was a reflex for her to recoil from loud voices...

Commander Cullen marched forward, and Solas took a step ahead to greet him. "Commander, apologies. We meant no harm."

"No harm?" Cullen snapped. He pointed to the camp beyond. "The new recruits can see you from between the trees. There are people in Haven who have suffered from magic, who have come here seeking shelter. Would you set them to running from us?"

"Commander," Solas began stiffly. "I did not mean to elicit a negative reaction--"

"I'm speaking to the both of you," Cullen said, and the sharp tone in his voice finally made Isobel look up.

He was just a man. He was just a person. Isobel, as she'd stared at her feet, had expected to look up and see him clad in his Templar armour. Like a nightmare walking around in front of her, parading himself about as if to torment her. But he was in armour she didn't immediately recognize, but she recognized the anger in his eyes. And the fear. Templars were always either angry or afraid.

He'd been civil enough when they met, at first. After all, she'd somewhat saved his life in the hills at the Temple blast. He'd been the only one to ask her how she felt about it all, her new title, the mark on her hand...But he was a Templar, and every now and then he would say things that reminded her of that.

"This practice is dangerous," Cullen said, staring into her eyes with determination. 

"Understood, Commander," Solas said, forcing Cullen to slowly look back to the other man. "We will practice more caution in the future."

"I hope so," Cullen said sternlu.

And then Isobel snapped. The fear she harboured seemed to dissipate in that moment, and she realized...she  _remembered..._ she was free. What did she owe this man? Absolutely nothing. There was no expectation for respect on her shoulders. She couldn't be punished for speaking her mind to him, and even if he complained, what would happen? Cassandra surely wouldn't demean Isobel. Cassandra, for the most part, seemed to be on Isobel's side. Whether that was because Cassandra thought Isobel was Holy, or because she trusted her, it didn't matter.

What could Cullen do to Isobel? Absolutely nothing. She had power now that she'd never had before, in more ways than one. And it rose in her throat like poison bile.

Cullen was just turning away when Isobel stepped forward. "I'm sorry," she said with a little chuckle, making him turn to her with wide eyes. "Sorry, let me just clarify this here. My practicing my craft is dangerous?" Isobel asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes." Cullen didn't miss a beat, and she realized he could easily match her in verbal battle.

But she just nodded slowly, sarcastically. "Right. So my practicing, far away from any innocent bystanders, in a clearing free of possible damage, is more dangerous than your camp full of soldiers currently bashing at each other with real swords?"

Cullen turned fully to face her, tilting his head to the side. "That is monitored," he argued. "Regulated."

"Oh, so because magic now has no regulators, it's dangerous?" Isobel spat.

"Magic has always been dangerous," Cullen said. "And more to the point, there are people here who have suffered-"

"There are people here who have suffered under blades as well," Isobel said, cutting him off and leaving him somewhat at a loss. "There are people who have been butchered by swords and maces, people who have watched loved ones die at the hands of daggers. Men, women, children who have seen more war than magic, and lived through those horrors are perfectly capable of seeing your soldiers at practice. It's loud too, and the sounds of battle could instigate many a horrible memory.  _I_ walk away from any public eye in order to better my gifts, and  _I'm_ dangerous? You're not _too_ biased, are you."

A short silence followed, where Isobel stared Cullen down as best she could, and Solas stayed completely silent. Cullen's face was mainly a blank slate, but there was a look of shock in his eyes Isobel could just make out. She bet he'd never heard a mage speak to him that bluntly before. It was about time.

"You are not out of the public eye," Cullen said simply. "And you are not being monitored."

"Solas is my monitor," Isobel immediately said.

"Another mage?"

"Would you prefer a Templar?" she snapped.

Cullen paused and pulled back. "I expect my answer would only anger you further," he said politely.

"I expect it would," Isobel said, squaring her shoulders and looking at Cullen as though he were lesser. As though she hadn't been terrified of him. As though she wasn't still.

Isobel thought she heard him sigh softly, but he straightened up as well and gave a slight bow from his head. "If you require practice, I shall ask Cassandra to set up a better area for you and any other mages who wish to train. However I will suggest proper security in that situation."

"Of course you will," Isobel said bitterly, but the way he politely retreated and left it at that made her feel a little guilty. Just a little. She'd never had the chance to be so rude to a Templar before, and she'd so badly wanted Cullen to react to her anger with an even harsher tone. She wanted to get him in trouble, she realized. She wanted him to show his Templar colours so she could go to Leliana and Cassandra with a smug grin and call him out. Isobel maliciously wanted him to pay for his past service.

After all, she'd heard the rumours about him.

Solas approached slowly, silently, and he handed her staff back. "I'm sorry," Isobel sighed, taking the staff and leaning on it lightly.

"You do not need to apologize to me," Solas said, and Isobel looked at the side of his face as he stared into the trees. She was waiting for him to finish a sentence she realized he wouldn't, and it made her sigh again. At last he looked down on her. "I believe my lessons are at an end."

"But I still feel like I need help," Isobel complained. "Just because that...that  _man_ says we can't, doesn't mean-"

"I do not want to test these waters," Solas said. "Do you? With all that is going on around us, do you believe it wise to push people's minds further than they have already been pushed?"

Isobel frowned. "But-"

"I am aware it is unfair," Solas said, turning to face her with an almost pitying look. "But you cannot expect the people of Thedas to immediately accept the concept of free mages. It will take time."

Isobel looked away, annoyed, but she could feel the fire quelling in her chest. He was right, and she wished so much that he were wrong. Isobel had never contemplated freedom, not once. She morbidly accepted her fate after her first few years at the Ostwick circle, and when the rebellion happened she was almost too afraid to run. After all, the circle had been all she'd known. No matter how horrible it was, it was home. It was familiar.

Now, with freedom like a weight on her shoulders, she realized she was boarding the line between acceptance and rejection. She had to be an example of what a free mage should be like, or else she would be no better than the Templars who'd corralled her. 

But it was hard. Because after her feet had hit that free grass, a massive ball of anger welled up in her stomach that she'd been keeping back for years, hiding it under sarcastic comments and icy attitudes.

"I hope, at least, that the memory of what we accomplished here will help," Solas said after her pause. "Do you feel as though you can use this lesson to your advantage?"

Isobel let her lips curve into a slow smile. "I think I may just be able to do that."


	2. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mages joined the Inquisition. If anyone had expected Isobel to do anything else, they were fools. And Cullen was most certainly not a fool. But he'd been hopeful, and he'd been shocked to find the mages were given complete alliance. And he voiced that shock, much to Isobel's annoyance.
> 
> All he'd ever been was a thorn in her side since day one, and it was about time she plucked him out.

Isobel found Cullen in the yard, as always, standing watch over the soldiers in training like a good captain would do. It bothered her, however, to watch him handle the men so well and do his job with such skill. She wanted him to be horrible at everything so she had a reason to dismiss him, a reason to detest him other than his background.

But she had a small reason now. 

 _What were you thinking?_ His voice echoed in her mind as she marched towards him, listening as he yelled over the sounds of metal clanging together.  _It's not up for debate. There will be abominations among the mages._ He was so ready to doubt her choices, even when she suggested to give the mages a trial run. Even when she  _agreed_ and said they could impose restrictions if it got bad. All Cullen had to say to that was "You were there, Seeker! Why did you not intervene?"

As if Isobel couldn't handle herself. As if she couldn't make decisions when they were left for her to make. If Cullen didn't like what she did, maybe he'd have to realize it's not necessarily her first choice either. She was just making do with what everyone threw at her.

His back was turned to her, and so as Isobel approached she cleared her throat so that he would turn. And he did, but only over his shoulder. It made her feel inferior, as if he had more important things to do than pay attention to her. "Do you have a moment?" she asked, trying to sound polite, trying to reign it in.

Cullen raised a brow at her. She wondered if that anger he'd shown before was still there somewhere in his mind. After Cassandra had settled him down a bit, and after the witty Dorian Pavus had made his own remarks, Cullen had seemed complacent. Isobel had feelings to the contrary.

"Was there something you needed?" Cullen asked, finally turning to face her and lowering the report he'd been glancing over.

"I was hoping I may have a moment of your time to discuss a certain matter," she said sharply.

Cullen looked at her a moment, then away at his troops briefly. When he turned back, the look of indifference was clear on his face. "Can it wait? I'm in the middle of-"

"It cannot wait," Isobel interrupted.

He stood up straighter. "Very well. Is this matter better spoken of in private?"

"Only if you cannot guarantee a level head," Isobel said, her short fuse getting the better of her. Now that she'd truly realized she could speak freely, that she didn't have to fear his reprimanding, it just came from her like smoke from a fire.

Cullen raised his brows. "My head is the only one being questioned?"

"Are you suggesting I'm incapable of logical discussion?" 

"Those are your words," Cullen said.

Isobel pulled back as if he'd taken a swing at her, but all he ever was was polite. He had this cool tone to his voice that made anything he said sound oddly serene and composed, even if there was a tone of anger behind it. He'd clearly grasped the attitude of authority, and Isobel was sorely reminded in that moment that he had more experience in everything. Battle, command, and  _life_ in general. He was her elder after all, though not by enough to warrant her respect, but she'd been raised nobly for the most part, and yet her pride was winning out.

"Are you and I going to have a problem?" Isobel finally asked.

He seemed taken aback. "I'm sorry?"

"You weren't happy with how I brought in the mages," she clarified. "Does this mean we are going to have trouble?"

"From me?" he asked, surprised, apparently, by her accusations. "I've no intention of causing any trouble. I merely shared my opinion."

"Loudly," Isobel scoffed.

He took a steadying breath, and Isobel wondered how hard he was holding back. "I was brought aboard this mission as an advisor and a leader, and though your ideas may differ from mine, I've no intention on quelling my own thoughts on certain matters. I will continue to express my ideas and opinions."

"I would prefer it if your opinions were not so completely against my own," Isobel said.

He laughed at her. He  _laughed._ "So you're upset with my ideas because they do not coincide with yours?"

Isobel rolled her eyes and shook her head. "If you take it at a base like that, anything I say sounds foolish."

"Again, your words," Cullen said.

Isobel's hands went into fists at her side. "I simply mean that I would rather your opinions did not sound so incredulous against mine. I've no issue with whatever biased opinion you want to give-"

" _I'm_ biased?"

"-but I would prefer it if your opinions didn't make me sound like an absolute idiot." Isobel paused and waited, but Cullen was waiting too. He seemed to be taking her more seriously than she'd expected. Why was she always hoping he would pick the fight  _with_ her? "To out right question every choice I make, in front of everyone, makes me feel and look very incompetent." She swallowed hard. "I'm doing my best."

Cullen's face seemed to soften at that, and Isobel thought he almost looked a little sorry. Cullen sighed. "I did not mean to make it seem as though I disapprove of your actions."

"But you do," Isobel argued.

"I may disagree," Cullen clarified, "but I do not disapprove. You  _are_ doing your best. You made a snap judgement, one I should have expected you to make. I was perhaps angrier at the situation more than angry with the choice. Cassandra has her faith in you, and I've little to say against that, but..."

Isobel sighed. She would regret this. "But?"

Cullen almost looked sheepish, and it was strange. "I still suggest caution when it comes to the rebel mages."

"Naturally."

"Please don't wave away my concerns," Cullen argued gently. "You cannot tell me every mage Fiona has brought here will be completely loyal to her _or_ you. _Or_  our cause. Think of it as you think of the rebellion at all. Some mages were for dissolving the circle, and others were not. I do not condemn your actions or the actions of your fellow mages, but there will be some mages who dislike coming here."

"More than they would have disliked being Tevinter slaves?" Isobel mused, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an angry yet wry brow. "You did not see the things I saw. You cannot imagine what I went through, what I witnessed. I thought everyone,  _everyone,_ was dead because of me. Because of a mistake. If I truly thought the mages would pose a threat, after everything I dealt with, do you really think I would have allied with them?"

Cullen shook his head at her. "I've said many times now that I do no disapprove. And I cannot begin to imagine what you went through, you are right. But you must see both sides. Why are you so incredibly against even the possibility that the rebel mages could pose a threat?" he asked.

"Because you automatically assumed they would!" Isobel said, almost stamping her foot like a child.

"I've experience that says it's a possibility," Cullen argued back. "I hope that I am wrong."

"If you worry about them, then do you worry about me?" Isobel challenged. "Do I not pose a risk? Are you going to have a problem with me as well?"

"Of course not!" Cullen snapped. She glowered at him, trying to pretend his raised voice didn't immediately make her want to back down. She wasn't one to run from an argument, but just the knowledge that he was...that he used to be a...Cullen sighed and looked away. "I have no intention of endangering your alliance, but I must ensure the safety of those here. That concern now extends to the mages. Had we allied with the Templars, I would have been as concerned."

"Unlikely," Isobel said.

He didn't try and argue. "The mages are putting themselves at risk for the Inquisition. As are you. Any precautions taken are meant to aid you. Nothing more. I hope you will accept them as such, though I think you are determined to fight me on this."

"What makes you say that?" Isobel snapped, only proving his point.

He looked at her with an almost unimpressed stare. "You are conditioned to distrust me."

Isobel glared at him. "Just as you are conditioned to distrust mages." She dropped her hands and turned slowly, casting him one final glance before walking off. "Keep your distance from them if you're concerned," she called back, and as she left she swore she could hear him groan. 


	3. The Still of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobel Trevelyan did not like Knight Captain Cullen. Just on principle. She'd never been rebellious, at least not really, but she'd been through enough to dislike all Templars. Little did she know that Cullen had been through enough to be skeptical of all mages...Until one night.
> 
> (Isobel discovers Cullen has nightmares. They share their pasts and biases)

The night was perfectly quiet and calm. The sound of the wind through distant trees blew into Isobel's little cabin room, and she lay in bed quietly staring at the tapestry above her head, very unable to sleep.

The assault on the breach was being prepared. The mages were almost ready. But Isobel wasn't.

Even if her mind wasn't restless, it was far too quiet for her life. There had always been either the sounds of talking, whispering, clanging, crying, or (more recently) battling. She supposed that had she not been a mage and had been left to her noble life-style she would be fast asleep by now, but Isobel had never learned to adapt to silence. She relished it, but it somehow put her on edge at night, as if any moment something terrible would occur. As if the peace couldn't possibly be real.

With a deep sigh, she rolled onto her side and stared out the window into the darkness. The small fire in the little hearth was growing dim, and Isobel had slept for only a few restless minutes. The embers cracked now and then, and Isobel could hear her breath hitting the pillow. Her eyelashes scratched the material gently as she blinked, and as time ticked by she was sure she would never get back to bed.

Tentatively, as if afraid to both see and  _not_ see it, Isobel raised her hand and stared at her mark in the darkness. Just at her will, the little slice glowed dully, illuminating her tanned face a tinted green. She hated this, yet was constantly intrigued by it. If the mark was on anybody else, Isobel would be the first to analyze it. But on herself, it made her something she'd never wanted to be; a hero. She was never rebellious really, just stubborn, and her sarcastic humour was her own little way of keeping her head down. But this? How could she possibly keep her head down with  _this_? It didn't hurt anymore, and she could at least be thankful for that. But she blamed the stupid thing for her restless mind. In reality, she blamed many things for her inability to sleep, but this was physical. This was in her sight line. And with a huff she slammed her hand down on the bed and sighed.

Defeated, Isobel threw back the warm blankets and dressed in whatever was warmest. She threw her hair up to keep it out of her face, halfheartedly tucking stray strands behind her ear, and pulled aside her cabin door. The wind hit her hard, something she was still getting used to with this newfound freedom, but she ventured out into the darkness with an alert mind. She wasn't used to snow, but she liked it somewhat. It cast a lovely image against the moon, and the sound it made as her boots crunched across it was a wonderful new sensation. She would never get used to being outside and not being monitored, stared at, or corralled.

Isobel was hardly used to being outside  _at all._

She walked out to the steps where a tiny little fire was glowing in the distance. She saw one person down below, then another, walking here and there in sleepy states. Other orange glows showed across Haven, but Isobel could tell by the quiet that the majority of the little village was asleep. The quiet peacefulness that had made her nervous before now seemed welcoming, a little respite in the chaos she was apparently destined to fix.

The Herald of Andraste...Isobel sighed to herself and stared up into the sky. If it  _was_ true, she thought there must be thousands of better options than her.

The sound of footsteps echoed from behind her then, and when Isobel turned she saw Cassandra walking towards her calmly. "A little late to be out," Cassandra said, coming to a stand still beside Isobel. They looked over the long valley together, letting the gentle snow stick to their hair.

"I could say the same to you," Isobel said. "Though you always come across as the 'Do as I say, not as I do' type."

Cassandra smirked and gave a vague nod. "It must be difficult to close your eyes to it all," she assumed. "If the rest of us find it hard to get a good night's rest, it must be doubly so for you." She cast Isobel a little, pitiful glance which made her feel small. "You must have so many questions," Cassandra added, as if imagining it.

"Wouldn't you if your hand glowed green and you had the power to seal breaches in the Veil?" Isobel said cheekily, unconsciously gripping her hand into a fist. 

"I suppose I would," Cassandra agreed, looking out over Haven once more. "It must be hard," she said softly after a breeze ruffled the snow by their feet.

Isobel sighed. "I just wish people didn't think I was a saviour," she said. "I wish they didn't think of me as some holy light sent here to save them."

"But what if you are?" Cassandra challenged.

"What if I'm not?"

She gave Isobel a small little smile of understanding. "What is it that  _you_ believe?"

Isobel looked down at her feet. "I don't know. I've never known."

After a pause, Cassandra asked, "What did you see? Exactly?"

Isobel shook her head. "I _did_ see a women. She was awash in green light and she reached for me, as if she was encouraging me. I  _want_ to believe it was Andraste...but I've spent my whole life hating the Chantry."

Cassandra was silent for a moment, but her answer sounded prepared. "Perhaps it is the system you detest. The Circle that took you from your home."

Isobel grimaced. She certainly did hate the Circle. And the Templars. She'd suffered enough to know what they were like, and how horrible life was for mages. She struggled to believe in a Maker who would allow such harsh treatment of his children, no matter their gifts. She never asked for magic, after all.

"Does it offend you?" Isobel asked instead of addressing her beliefs. "The fact that I have doubts about it all."

"No. It is not my place to be offended by another's beliefs. As a mage, I can only imagine what you might feel," Cassandra said, shocking Isobel a bit. "Though I can never claim to understand you, I believe I have an idea. But I have seen evil in many forms."

"And you still believe?" Isobel asked.

Cassandra looked at her almost kindly. "Yes, I still believe. Both Mages and Templars, even some Sisters, are guilty of wickedness. But I believe. And I try to do so without bias."

Isobel nodded. She hated to admit she could understand the biases when it was put this way. Before she could answer, and before she could tell Cassandra that as a Seeker she was shocking her, the sound of sudden panic erupted in the still air.

Cassandra and Isobel both whipped their heads in the direction of the noise, but it was over as quickly as it started. "What was that?" Isobel asked, watching Cassandra try and pin-point the noise like a hunting dog. The sound of a yell for help, muffled by what sounded like sleep, came from a cabin across the small courtyard. It echoed with surprising volume, and Cassandra was moving before Isobel could even register her absence. She followed on quick feet.

Across the yard and past the soldier tents, two small cabins stood silently. One showed signs of light inside, and another was dark and asleep. Isobel and Cassandra stood still for a long moment, waiting cautiously. Cassandra had her hand on the hilt of her sword, but at the sound of yet another cry out she dropped her arms and darted toward one of the doors.

Isobel's eyes went wide. "Is that Cullen's quarters?" But Cassandra didn't answer. The yells had increased in both volume and timing, and without a second thought Cassandra pushed the door aside. The room was awash in candles, and a desk near the window suggested that someone had been busy for most of the night. Laying in the small bed, crying out for mercy and help, Cullen writhed. His eyes were shut tight against some unseen horror, and his voice was yelling far too loudly for so late at night. There was no assailant and no sign of injury, but Cassandra and Isobel rushed to his aid.

Isobel reached for the man's shoulder, which seemed slick with sweat under his shirt, and Cassandra held the man's legs down. "Cullen!" she shouted. "Wake up, wake  _up_!"

"Is he having a fit?" Isobel asked in fear. She'd seen something like this before at the Circle. A poor girl was prone to the illness, and Isobel'd had to help once or twice. But Cullen was speaking, pleading, begging for his life. Isobel shook his shoulders until his eyes shot open wide, and from under the blankets he produced a dagger with an amazing amount of speed.

The blade was brought up under Isobel's chin, and Cassandra drew back as a wave of sparks sprang to Isobel's fingertips, ready to take action. The hair on her arms stood on end, and the air around her crackled with electricity. Cullen could only stare at her, towering above him, with his hand steady but his chest heaving. Isobel too was stiff and stern, keeping her breath stable like she'd been trained to do, but letting her reflexes take over as Solas had instructed. It felt different, knowing that the magic at her fingertips wasn't against any rule. She felt like she could handle herself in this situation, though she didn't really know what this situation was.

They stayed in this standoff for what felt like minutes, but soon Cullen blinked at her in something like awe and dropped the dagger to the floor with a clang. All three of them let out a collective sigh. Isobel sheathed her own powers and stepped back.

"Forgive me," Cullen said breathlessly, looking away from Isobel and staring at the sheets as if staring at himself in shock.

"Are you alright?" Cassandra asked stiffly. Isobel had a feeling the warrior woman wasn't used to outbursts of emotion, or at least handling trauma.

Cullen nodded, but one quick look at him let Isobel know that he was far from it. His face was simultaneously flushed with embarrassment and pale with fear. "I'll be fine," he said.

Cassandra gave Isobel a look, and slowly the two of them began to retreat. If Cassandra wasn't any good at comfort, Isobel felt she could do even less for the former Knight Captain.

"Try to rest easy," Cassandra said as she turned her back on Cullen's small room. She watched as Isobel followed her, allowing her to duck through the door first, and with a look of brief concern on her stern features Cassandra shut Cullen's door.

The following silence felt unwelcome. "Was it a nightmare?" Isobel asked quietly as the door shut Cullen's terror out.

Cassandra paused. "I imagine so," she said slowly, almost sadly.

Isobel frowned. "Why was he calling for help?" But Cassandra didn't answer. She didn't even look at Isobel. "Did you know about this?" Isobel asked, surmising that Cassandra knew something more than she let on.

"I did not know," Cassandra finally admitted. "But I suppose I am not surprised."

Isobel's eyes widened at that, and for a moment they just stood there, each staring into the distance lost in their thoughts. 

Cassandra finally sighed and straightened her shoulders. "We should just let him be. And perhaps we should also try to get some rest." And without another stern warning, or anything near a command, Cassandra moved away, leaving Isobel in the cold air. Very slowly, Isobel followed, watching as Cassandra made her way into the Chantry through the large wooden doors. The moment they shut however, Isobel felt herself hesitate. Turning over her shoulder, the snow sticking in her dark hair, she looked back at Cullen's door.

What did she owe him? Absolutely nothing. She knew his kind, and he knew hers, and that is why they kept away from one another. Ever since they were first introduced, and Isobel flinched at his outstretched hand, everyone knew there would be problems between them. He still supported his Templar kin, even as they ravaged around him, and that was instantly clear to Isobel. Isobel knew the rebel mages had lost their control as well, but Cullen never admitted to the Templar problems as she admitted to her fellow mages'.Ever since they'd argued over the events at Redcliffe, Isobel had kept a civil amount of distance between herself and Cullen, but she was not one to let someone suffer, particularly someone who was-unfortunately-helping her.

Isobel could only imagine what it was that set Cullen off. The image of him, someone she more or less feared, screaming for help like that...It didn't seem right. She wasn't proud enough to deny that she was painfully curious. She'd heard enough rumours to wonder, both before coming to Haven _and_ after. And she was also proud of her calming abilities. Healing was one thing, but she'd always had a good way of putting minds at ease. It was a soothing talent that the First Enchanter in Ostwick had noticed. It's why Isobel became something like a baby sitter to the younger mages.

If it worked on children's nightmares...Setting her jaw, Isobel turned and crunched through the snow back to his quarters. Shaking her head at herself she knocked gently on his door before pushing it aside and stepping in.

He was still in bed, sitting up slightly and leaning foreword with his head in his hand. He stared at the messy blankets across his lap, but his eyes looked wide and distant. The dagger still lay on the floor where Cullen had relinquished his fear, and Isobel closed the door quietly and didn't move.

Slowly, Cullen ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh before looking up, and suddenly to Isobel. He gasped and jumped, making her step back as well. "Maker's breath," he breathed, shaking his head. "What are you doing? I didn't see you there," he admitted.

Isobel almost smirked. "I've never exactly been one for stealth," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

If Isobel expected anger or distaste, she was greatly dissatisfied. Even though, in their discussions, it was usually Isobel starting the heat she expected _something_ like anger from him. But he seemed quite...defeated. "No, please," he said, running a hand over his eyes before meeting her stare once more. "I should be the one to apologize. I...did not mean to wake you."

"You didn't wake me," she said. "Your blatant cries for help weren't as loud as you think."

Even in the dim light, Isobel was almost sure Cullen was blushing. There was a nasty streak in her that liked his embarrassment, but mostly she felt sorry for him. He looked very different out of his armour, shaken as he was and apparently unstable. It wasn't as amusing to taunt him as it always seemed to be, at least just from the look of him. He was out of his element in more ways than one, she realized, quite literally with no protection over his skin. He seemed more like a person than a figure now, and it threw Isobel off a bit.

"Did you need something?" he asked after the awkward silence had passed.

"Actually, I was wondering if _you_ did," Isobel said, taking a cautious step forward. "I doubt you'd dain to allow yourself to be touched by magic, but I could-"

"Please. Don't do that," he interrupted, holding a hand up at her as if to stop her words.

Isobel shrugged, very well aware of what he meant. "Do what?"

"Mock me the way you do," he said with a surprising amount of exasperation. "I won't have it tonight. Please."

In an instant, Isobel felt her cheeks light up and her heart pound. It was off-putting to have him call her out on their little banters. She'd never been a mean person, but it had been far too hard to put her biases aside. If all he knew of her was that she was rude, mocking, it made her feel horrible.

"I'm sorry," she said sheepishly, clasping her hands together at her waist and looking at the floor.

She heard him sigh. "I know we aren't on the best terms. We can return to hating each other later," he said, trying to change the mood of the moment.

Isobel almost wanted to tell him that she didn't hate him, but it would feel like a slight lie. After another brief pause, she cleared her throat. "I was being serious with offering my help, however," she said.

"No, thank you," Cullen said with a fair amount of kindness. "Magic is the last thing I need right now," he added, ruining it all.

Isobel frowned. "Isn't it always?" she spat.

He looked at her, confused by her tone for a moment, before realizing her anger. "No you misunderstand me. I said we could go back to hating each other later, I wasn't trying to offend you." He hesitated. "I'm just being very honest at the moment."

Their eyes drifted away from each other's, and Isobel's mind seemed to follow. Cullen _had_ been a Templar. But he wasn't anymore, and from what she'd seen, even as he defended them, he didn't  _want_ to be one. She'd heard about his madness. When they were first introduced, she couldn't imagine that he was the same Cullen from all those rumours. Only a few had gotten to Ostwick, spread around after the Blight as something like a scary story for the mages, but Isobel had heard more almost the moment she entered Haven.

Making a few assumptions, Isobel finally spoke. "You have nightmare's about mages, don't you," she said stiffly.

The look on his face told her she was right. "Don't get the wrong impression of me," he said. "I do not have irrational fears like others of my station."

"Don't you?" Isobel snapped, unable to keep her bitterness at complete bay."You _were_ very against my alliance with the rebel mages. You were keen on the Templars."

"We've been over this. Of _course_ I was," he said, almost annoyed. "I understand them. If they'd proven an unstable alliance do you think I would have accepted them?"

"So you _do_ think the mages are unstable," Isobel immediately said.

"Must we?" When Isobel's eyes stayed hard on his, he sighed. Cullen looked too weary for this argument, but his voice suggested otherwise. "I think they could be dangerous, yes. Particularly with the freedom you've given them."

"And Templars aren't dangerous?" Isobel challenged. "Their freedom hasn't proven very safe either, and it's clear you don't trust mages."

"You cannot tell me they aren't dangerous," Cullen said, waving a hand towards the world beyond his cabin.

"And you cannot tell me Templars aren't unfairly cruel!" Isobel snapped. "Do you think, as a mage, they would listen to me in the least? I understand the need for protection and I understand the caution. But what I've been through...what I've seen...The Circle is not protection. _Templars_ are not protection."

"I don't want to do this," Cullen said as sternly as he could. "Now is not the time for..." He looked away and stayed silent, but he looked like he was fuming. Eventually the anger drifted off his face. "I have my reasons for fear, believe me," he said, almost as if he hadn't meant to admit it.

Isobel shook her head. "Templars only have biases. They don't know what they do. The kind of fear that  _they_ cause."

"But I do know that," Cullen said, practically cutting her off. "I know what Templars do to mages."

"No you don't," she said. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be one."

"Well I'm not one," Cullen corrected, making Isobel look away as if he'd won a point in a game. "Do you ever ask what Mages do to Templars? Given the chance?"

"Whatever they deserve," Isobel said without thinking. She regretted those words the moment they left her lips.

Cullen somehow managed to pull away from her, even as he sat in his bed and she stood feet away from him. "I'm surprised to hear you say that. Truly. I understand all mages have a bias, but I didn't actually feel yours was this stern."

"You don't know what it's like," Isobel said. "And you don't know what I've been through."

"You don't know me either," Cullen said.

Isobel stared him down for a moment before scoffing and turning away. "Templars are the same. One way or another they're the same. Some just show their minds in harsher ways," she grumbled, and with that she spun and reached for the door.

"Wait," Cullen said softly behind her. She was amazed at herself that she paused, and it perhaps only reinforced her Templar training. If they told you to stop, you stopped. "Were you looking for this fight when you came in?"

She spun. "Of course I wasn't. I wanted to help.  _You_ made it worse." She again regretted those words. Yelling at a man she'd just seen screaming in terror felt wrong no matter who it was.

Cullen sighed. "It seems we both have our biases to bear. And our reasons. This may be a good a time as any," he mumbled.

"For?" Isobel asked cautiously.

His own glance was skeptical, but determined. "For peace."

***

They sat by the fire, much to Isobel's reluctance. She hadn't come here to become friends, or to adapt to Cullen's regular presence, yet here she was. He'd brought her a blanket, and she'd wrapped herself up with it to fight off the chill. Cullen had gotten out of bed already partially dressed, with trousers and a loose shirt hanging off of him, and he now sat across from her in thought, draped in his cloak.

Isobel felt as if she were a child waiting for a scolding.

"I don't know how much Cassandra told you about me," he began, still staring into the fire. He sounded tired, and every time Isobel lifted her eyes through her lashes to see his face, he looked different.

"I've heard the basics," she said stiffly, barely noticing how she leaned forward.

He looked at her suddenly. "Did you know that I was present for the fall of Ferelden's Circle? During the Blight."

She blinked. "She may have mentioned it. I...didn't think on it much." In fact she had. Isobel hadn't pressed Cassandra for answers, nor had she asked anyone else. She simply found a book and read. Living in the circle had of course given her rumours of Fereldan's tower. She'd been so much younger then, so much more afraid. She could just imagine Cullen being ready to invoke the Right of Annulment as soon as the first mage turned. She didn't have enough information on the actual cause of the Circle's downfall, but she didn't need much for her imagination to immediately conjure up the sight of mages screaming and Templars covered in their blood.

After all, she'd seen that first hand.

"I imagine you think it was a good thing," Cullen went on. "The perfect start to what the Circles have become."

Isobel shook her head, much to Cullen's surprise. "I don't agree with any means to an end," she said. "I agree with change being necessary, but I thought there would be an easier way. A more peaceful way. It's why I was there the day that..." She clenched her hand, gripping the blanket closer around her shoulders.

Cullen gave a slow nod, looking at her fingers before looking back into the fire. "Well. Perhaps that is something we can agree on." Isobel watched as he continued to stare off in silence, apparently lost in his past. Finally, as if it gave him great difficulty, he started to explain. "I once had an unfortunate soft spot for a mage in the Circle. In Ferelden, back when I was young and somewhat new."

Isobel kept her face blank, and her voice silent, but inside she could feel the shock rippling through her chest.

"It was the stuff of gossip and rumour, but I won't deny now that it was true," he went on. "Fereldan wasn't the worst Circle, so I've heard, but the mages and Templars kept their distances from one another like anywhere. I know some Templars were crueler than others, but some mages were too. The mage that I...She was kind. She had a smile for everyone, no matter who or what you were. I was there for her Harrowing. She was extraordinarily fast, and I was impressed by her power. I'd never been anything but cautious of magic until her. That Mage...became the Hero of Ferelden."

"What?" Isobel said, breaking her vow of disinterest.

His eyes met hers quickly, but then they turned away. "I knew there was something about her even then." For another brief moment he paused, leaning back in his chair and thinking. "During the Circle's fall, many Templars were caught up in the mess of demons that gushed forth. Desires, or pride, or anger, took men with iron wills as easily as squashing an insect. Any who wouldn't comply were dealt with harshly." He took a steadying breath. "Demons...or Mages...trapped me and terrorized me with visions of her. They tortured me mentally, physically, until whatever kindness I had in me was gone. When she came to help the Circle, I treated her with the greatest disdain I've ever treated anyone. The things I said, and the way I behaved, are things that haunt me to this day. I will never not regret them."

Isobel's face softened. Her iron mask had fallen away halfway through his tale, and he was so strangely honest with her that she couldn't possibly keep her anger at a high. He...was suffering. The memory of himself, not even what had happened to him, seemed to hurt him more than anything Isobel could shout at him. She blinked a few times before leaning forward. "It was the trauma," she said softly, shocked to hear herself so understanding. "It wasn't you at the time."

He looked at her with the same amount of surprise, but then Cullen chuckled a little bitterly. "It was a version of myself I know exists, perhaps deep down now. Along with that however," he went on, "I will never forget the treatment I was given. I was new and I was young. I'd never done anything cruel or harsh to a mage, but the simple fact that I was what I was made it enough for them to torture me. I can imagine you can say the same. Mages are treated horribly just for what they are, and I admit it's unjust. But there is some reason for the caution, the suspicion. Templars and mages...it's only a title. Each group is full of simple people. But the things I've seen, dealt with...it would leave anyone scarred."

Isobel shifted in her seat and pursed her lips as a silence drew out. He was right. Damn him, he was right. Although Isobel still felt sure the mages had the short end of the stick, it really was something like a two-way street. "Well I'm afraid I can't hate you for that," she grumbled half-heartedly.

"Why's that?" Cullen asked, a little hint of amusement in his eye mixed with the sadness of memories.

"They're your battle scars," Isobel said. "I could no more be angry at you for fearing Darkspawn or...angry Dwarven rogues."

Cullen chuckled, and it was a sound Isobel was no where near accustomed to. She couldn't recall ever having heard a true laugh from him, but this was as close as it had gotten.

"I only..." she started, hesitating a moment as he looked at her. "I only wish you didn't hold a bias against all mages. I understand your pain," she said before he could interrupt. "But surely not  _all_  mages are so easily turned to cruelty. The majority of us would much rather live in peace."

"The majority of Templars, as well," Cullen said, and a sudden sense of similarity forced Isobel to keep her lips closed. "But Ferelden wasn't the end to it. I was then present for the epidemic in Kirkwall."

Isobel shook her head. "Bad luck seems to follow you," she breathed.

He nodded. "I had dealings with the one you call The Champion."

"Another mage," Isobel gently joked.

He nodded again. "Yet another Mage."

"You must have been pleased," she said. "I'm surprised you didn't roll your eyes and cry out to the Maker to spare you when it came to me."

Cullen managed a smirk, leaning on his hand and watching the flames once more. "I admit, the thought crossed my mind. But no other thought. I'm merely surprised by the influence...the constant power and determination I find with...I fear it will sound bad of me to say..."

"Go on," Isobel encouraged, crossing a leg underneath her like an avid listener.

He smiled wryly. "Angry women Mages."

Isobel smirked and shook her head at him. "Did you expect the Hero and the Champion to be well educated warrior men, determined to right the wrongs of evil?"

"Would you hate me more if I said to some degree?" he asked, matching her wry smile.

Isobel shrugged. "Then I say it's justice. Three women, all mages, giving you what-for."

Cullen chuckled yet again, and somewhere in her heart Isobel was proud. Without any form of spell or magic, she'd managed to brighten his dark night just a little bit, even after having added to it. Why that mattered to her, she didn't know, but all she could feel was a little glow in her cheeks whenever he laughed.

"What were they like?" she asked after they drifted to close to silence.

Cullen stared at her for a moment, his face serene yet distant. "Solona was sweet, rather innocent at a glance. But she was smart and determined with a heart of gold. It feels strange to be talking about her."

"I'm sorry," Isobel said, immediately looking at the ground. "I didn't mean to stir old wounds."

He waved her concern away with a large calloused hand. "No, that isn't how I meant it. I've never seen her again, sadly, but I know enough to know she is settled. At least where we were concerned. There never was, nor could have been, anything between us."

Isobel nodded slowly and swallowed hard. "And Hawke? The Champion?"

"We were friends, I feel," Cullen said, crossing one leg over his knee and leaning back in his chair. "At least as friendly as we could have been. At that time we both had our issues with the other, and naturally there were some biases," he smirked, "but all in all...it came down to right and wrong, not Templar and Mage."

"You helped put Kirkwall back together in the after math," Isobel recalled. "I remember hearing whispers about it at Ostwick. We weren't allowed to discuss it when the First Enchanter discovered the truth behind the rumours, but people were saying even the Templars eventually came around to the mages side."

"Not to the degree I believe you'd like," Cullen admitted.

Isobel nodded. "But...you  _did_ help."

"It was in Kirkwall that I truly witnessed evil. In both forms. Meredith...I've never seen such power. Or anger. And Orsino? The desperation that made him turn to dark arts, I never thought he could break like that," he said. "But yes. I did help. It was difficult. But I had a new view that I owe very much to both Solona and Hawke."

"So you don't deny your negative actions in the past..." Isobel surmised.

"And indeed I'm not trying to excuse them," Cullen continued. "Just redeem them." He blinked at her a moment, watching as she nodded, clearly pleased to hear his explanations. "I hope I've given you a bit more insight to the person behind the title."

Isobel shrugged and looked away with a little grin. "I prefer hearing about my counterparts more than your bitter past." She gave him a glance from the corner of her eye and saw him raising a brow at her playfully.

How strangely light hearted this all was...

"I haven't told you the best part," Cullen said through his smirk, amused by Isobel's friendliness.

"Pray tell then," she said.

He paused for effect. "They were related."

"NO."

"Distant cousins," he clarified. "But related. Hawke told me of it herself. It was quite the coincidence."

"As are you," Isobel joked. "I cannot fathom the acts of Fate it took to put you in both their paths."

"And now yours," he said, bowing his head to her kindly.

She gave a light yet sincere smile. "And now mine."

They shared a short stare with one another before Isobel shifted in her seat and broke the, what felt like, awkward tension.

"So now," Cullen began, shifting his position as well. "Tell me about the Herald. Behind both that title and your magic."

Isobel looked up, and in that instant she could feel the seriousness of her face ruining the lightness of the moment. Her eyes must have given her shock or reluctance away, because Cullen's face twisted into something like regret. "Unless of course you'd rather not," he added hastily. "I've no expectation of you returning my story."

"No, it's...alright," Isobel mumbled, looking down at her boots as they rested gently on the floor. "I just don't believe you would like me to leave you with a sad tale."

"Well it cannot be  _all_  sad," Cullen said. "So perhaps start with the unhappy truths and end on the lighter present."

"If you can call the present  _light,"_ Isobel said, and both she and Cullen gave an unfortunate little nod. After a sigh, Isobel began. "I was born to nobility, as I think you know."

"If I wasn't told, I would still know," Cullen said, leaning back in his chair and eyeing her intently.

She scoffed. "I don't believe I can claim to carry myself with a noble air when I was sent away at only eight years old," she said. "I was still a wild little animal at that time."

Cullen smirked. "I doubt that," he said. "I think that is what you remember. I bet others recall a perfect little Lady."

"Stop it, or I won't go on," Isobel said, mocking sternness but making him smile nonetheless.

"Go on," he said.

Isobel sighed again and went on. "I didn't want to go, as you can imagine, but my mother told me grand stories of the woman I would become. She made it sound very romantic, but what did she know? About as much as I did. Still, she sent me off with a smile I can still see to this day. The joy hit her lips, but not her eyes."

Isobel paused and listened as Cullen swallowed hard. "It must be very difficult to lose a child," he said.

"She wasn't losing me," Isobel corrected. "But it was just close enough to hurt around the same amount. I think that's what caused the most pain. Knowing that I was alive far away from her." Another sad pause left Isobel staring into the fire as Cullen had been, as if there she could find courage to go on.

"The Ostwick Tower, I hear, is one of the worst," Isobel said. "At least that's what the whispers said. When I first arrived and began my lessons, I watched Templars kick children my age if they crossed paths with them in the halls. A Senior Enchanter would slap me with a rod if I made a mistake or lost control."

"Maker's breath," Cullen said heavily, brows furrowed. 

Isobel gave a bitter smile. "I'm glad to see it shocks you. When I was older, a girl beside me in a group exercise lost the spell, and a Templar hit her in the back of the head with his armoured glove. Another boy accidentally burned himself and a Templar wouldn't allow us to heal him or even bandage his wound." As Isobel spoke, she could see Cullen's face begin to twist into horror and anger at her words, and she knew it was not her accusations that bothered him.

He looked like he knew these things were true and wished he could stop it.

"And then, when I was sixteen, there were three new Templars brought in to help with the younger children," she went on. "They were very, very bad at it, and the young ones would end up in tears so regularly that they would get near fainting. I tried to take care of them, and the First Enchanter even asked me specifically to watch out for one little girl. But that wasn't the worst of it..."

She stopped. Cullen waited and watched, but Isobel couldn't go on. Her eyes were wide, but not in shock or confusion. She stared at the tiled floor and felt her mouth going dry.

"You can tell me," Cullen said softly, but it didn't spur her words.

She couldn't tell him this.

She heard the wood of his chair creak as he shifted forward, leaning on his knees to see her face in the fading firelight. "Though you do not have to."

"They were bad men," she said at last, looking up so swiftly that it made him pull back. She stared at him in earnest. "I know other men can be bad, but these men took advantage of a mages' position and they were  _cruel_. We had nowhere to go, we had no one to seek help from. I had no one I could tell about any of it."

Cullen bit his lips a moment. "The Mages had no one?" he asked. "Or you had no one?"

Isobel took a deep breath in and leaned back, casting her eyes to the fire once again and trying to forget all the memories that had suddenly threatened to overflow her mind.

Cullen sat still for a moment before giving a little sigh. "We both have had some interesting experiences with our opposites, haven't we," he said gently.

Isobel gave a nod. "I'm sorry for this," she said. "I'd meant to help you and instead we've become something like a melancholy pissing-match."

Cullen barked out a low laugh and chuckled deep. "Well I've never heard such foul words from a Noblewoman before."

The look he gave her almost forced a little smile onto her lips. "What about a Holy Icon?"

He gave a small smirk. "Even more shocking."

"Well," she said. "I've never had a decent conversation with a Knight Captain."

"Please," he said. "It's Cullen."

Isobel tried to read his face as he gave her those words, like a little gift he only saved for specific occasions. He looked friendlier to her now. Perhaps his scowls and serious brow had been in retaliation for her own sideways glares and indifference. Now, he seemed open, and rather willing to share his space with her. Perhaps this could be the beginning. Perhaps they had just started the peace.

"Then...it's Isobel to you," she said quietly, the fire crackling by their sides.

"Not Lady Trevelyan?"

"Oh, shut it."

 ***

Isobel woke with dry eyes. She was far more exhausted than she'd expected to be, and from her window she could see the clear milky sky of early morning mocking her. She felt tired in body, but awake in soul, and sitting up she let the brisk air touch her skin.

She'd sat a while longer with Cullen, talking about nothing serious as the night wore on. It wasn't until their conversations were interrupted with regular yawning that she excused herself to sleep (by saying he needed it more than she did). She was grateful to collapse into bed. Grateful and proud. Her fiery temper and stubbornness aside, she liked to be of use. All she ever had to offer was her help, living in the Circle all her life.

Isobel sat in silence for a while listening to the sounds of the waking village. Every now and then someone called out, and soldiers were practicing sparring once again, but otherwise the world was calm. She felt shockingly more prepared for the advance on the Breach.

Climbing out of her bed, Isobel made her way to her dresser and took out something simple but warm. Foregoing her usual tight bun, she threw her hair into a messy braid and left her room. The snow had melted a little with the morning sun, and the day was clear and bright. Isobel smiled at the mountains in the distance before pattering down the steps and walking through a little patch of trees.

"Herald! Good morning!"

Spinning her head quickly, Isobel searched for the voice until movement in a tree caught her eye. Through the branches she spotted Solas, leaning against the trunk of the great thing while high up in it's boughs. With a chuckle, she moved towards him. "Good morning, Solas. Early riser?"

"Sunrises are far too blissful to miss," he responded, smiling down at her softly.

"Sleep is necessary for life however," she said wryly, and he smirked.

"I've already heard rumours of unrest last night," he said as she peered up at him. "A situation I may have been able to help with, I gather."

Isobel nodded. "With your knowledge of dreams you might have been handy," she said. "Too bad you're always too busy being the mysterious Elf."

He graced her with a little laugh before responding. "Lucky it was, then, that you were present."

She paused. "I did what any could do. I've no talent for dreams."

"But you do for peace," Solas said. "You calmed the beast and braved its den."

"Cullen is not a bear," she said with a roll of the eyes, leaning her back against the tree.

Solas leapt down and landed before her gracefully, making her jump just by a fraction but sparking a smile. "Indeed, now that you have tamed him," Solas said. "But be cautious."

She narrowed her eyes. "Cautious? Why?"

Solas looked towards the Chantry and Isobel followed his eye. There she saw Cullen, pulling his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders and barking a command to a soldier on the fly. He was very much back to normal, with no trace of the man she'd handled last night.

"He is a man that is easily attached," Solas said.

Isobel frowned. "As in you fear I will attach myself to him? A Templar?" The discussions aside, Isobel knew people would expect her to be skeptical of his previous role. And for some odd reason she felt the need to quell rumours. 

"Ah but he is no longer a Templar," Solas challenged, giving her a look of intrigue. "And I did not mean that he is prone to draw people in. But prone to fall."

Isobel couldn't smirk or chuckle. In her heart she felt a little spark of concern, and it showed on her face. Was it concern for herself? Or for Cullen? She supposed she could see him as easily attached, like a kicked puppy the moment it is then showed love. Isobel tried to make it seem pathetic or pitying, but instead it made her a little sad. How long had it been since someone showed him kindness?

"Perhaps I speak out of turn," Solas said cautiously after Isobel's pause.

"No," she said calmly. "I much prefer those around me to speak their minds."

"Well you are certainly not afraid to speak yours," Solas said, and with a little bow of his head he meandered off, leaving Isobel to stew beneath the tree and the wind.


	4. A Life for a Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Elder One had almost succeeded, but through sheer determination and the sacrifice of Haven, Isobel found her way safely back to her companions...and to the aggravatingly intriguing Commander Cullen.
> 
> (Isobel and Cullen share a moment after Haven)

The demons vanished. With a wave of her hand, and a feeling of foreign power, Isobel had called forth a rift to draw the creatures back from whence they came. And away they went, before she even had to find the stamina at the very bottom of her soul to push her through yet another fight. Breath heaving, Isobel stared at the mouth of the cave where the demons had once stood and saw the raging snow beyond. She had to venture forth. She had to push through.

Even if she had no idea where to go from here. 

Isobel moved until she stood right at the precipice of the cave, staring out across windy whiteness. She really wasn't used to snow, or freezing temperatures, and dressed as she was she was incredibly unwilling to push ahead. But they wouldn't come back for her. Maybe in time they might try, but it was all to her now. And she had to get back to her...people? Companions? What did she call a band of something-like-misfits who followed her every move?

Guardians?

Friends?

With a deep breath, and an even heavier gulp, Isobel lurched into the snowy storm and traipsed through the snow. It came up so high that she stumbled, gasping as she fell forward. The snow came almost to her ankles, and she struggled through the weather in hopes that she was going the right way. Below her, she could barely make out the imprints of past footsteps that she would have to take for real. She tried to spy any kind of light in the distance, but it was hopeless.

And still she moved forward.

Isobel shivered, her teeth chattering, and her whole body felt like it was shaking. She'd never felt so utterly without warmth, and soon she was walking in a straight line with her eyes almost closed. She tried to shield her vision as best she could, and it wasn't until the snow came almost to her calves that she looked up and ahead once more.

The storm was worse, and in the dim moonlight she could barely make out the shape of trees to her right and the shadow of a mountain top ahead. Her face was numb, and she could hardly feel her toes, but she moved. She forced herself to, thinking about everything she'd been through and all she still had to live for. And faces. So many faces continued to pop into her head.

She'd never had many friends. In the Circle she'd either kept to herself, or spent her time with younger Mages who needed a guiding hand. But the people she had met along this terrifying journey were beginning to creep into her good books, and Isobel found herself cherishing the idea of seeing them again.

It's what spurred her on, but when the snow reached her knees she began to falter. It was so far, she realized. In the white daze she'd been struggling through, time had been lost to her. But her body felt the repercussions as the adrenaline fizzled out at last. With each step she stumbled, and every new plunge her feet took into the thick snow made her feel like she weighed thousands of pounds.

But there was light. Ahead of her in the crevice of a mountain, a small cave grew bright with campfires. Isobel smiled, but just the sight of relief seemed to make her determination shut down. At her next desperate step, she caved, falling to her knees in the snow with one final moan of defeat. Help. Did she say it aloud? Or just think it? Could she even speak?

"It's her!" someone yelled, and just before Isobel fell face first into the snow, someone caught her. In fact, someone threw themselves down into the snow before her to catch her tired body before it collapsed. They dragged her out of the cold and the wet, hoisting her like a child in their arms, and carefully picked their way through the storm and into the shelter of the cave. There were voices, both male and female, and Isobel struggled to keep her eyes open. She could feel the metal of armour under her legs and around her shoulders, and in an attempt to keep awake she blinked over and over again...

...to see Cullen carrying her into camp.

***

Isobel woke to arguing. Again. This time her advisors were kind enough to keep their voices somewhat down in order to not wake her. Sadly they failed, and Isobel sighed as she kept her eyes shut while listening to the harsh whispers.

She knew Mother Giselle was no longer at her side, and nor did she really need the healing or the praying. In fact the prayers had been a little uncomfortable. Isobel wasn't exactly devout, Herald of Andraste or not...

She could hear someone scoff and swear in the distance, and as she opened her eyes the sound and sight of boots trudging past her tent caught her attention.

Cullen walked by in a huff, marching towards the blazing fire in the middle of the encampment looking to all the world like he wanted to kick something. It almost made Isobel smirk, but instead she sat up, rubbed the drowsiness from her eyes, and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. Padding across the snow in her boots, she observed all the sleeping or injured bodies littered across the cave floor. It made her feel guilty. Guilty for sleeping, for worrying everyone, for being everyone's only hope...

But she shook her head, and her hair slipped in front of her eyes. With a quick tuck behind her ear she stopped at the fire where Cullen now sat on a log, prodding the blaze with a stick like an angry boy. "Having trouble sleeping again?" she asked wryly, smirking when he looked up at her in surprise.

He nearly stood, but seemed to think better of the ceremony. He arched a brow. "Not for the reason you may think," he said, almost sighed. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I think I've rested enough," Isobel said, taking a seat on a large rock that someone had rolled close to the fire as a chair. "We have to stop meeting like this," she joked.

"What, in distress?" Cullen mused.

"At fireplaces."

He chuckled, and Isobel rewarded herself with a warm glow that spread from her stomach to her chest. "I'm trying to keep it warm," Cullen said, poking a log that refused to stay burning. "It seems determined to go out."

From under the blanket, Isobel let her hand creep forward to produce a little flame from her fingertips. It slunk along the log and made it burst with flame from the inside out.

Cullen leaned back in the new light with wide eyes, but he didn't seem upset or scared. In fact, Isobel thought he looked almost impressed.

"You're surrounded by mages and you never thought of asking for that?" Isobel asked.

Cullen sighed. "You have to understand," he said, looking at her with the hope of sympathy, "I'm not exactly used to asking mages to perform magic."

Isobel gave a slow nod. "I suppose that's true," she said. "It must be a little like fighting a reflex for you."

"I used to be interested by it, remember?" he mused, looking at her softly. "Sometimes I still find it interesting, but I do have...some concerns when I see it. The reflex is not drawing my sword," he added suddenly, as if that assumption was clear in her tone.

She stared right into his eyes. "I know it's not."

He blinked at her a few times before Isobel finally looked down and away. A stiff wind blew through the little crevice the encampment was stationed in, and it blew Isobel's hair around her neck lightly as the fire flickered and crackled.

"I watched you fight back in Haven," Cullen said when the wind left them in silence. She looked back at him expecting an angry look, but this time she was sure there was something like awe in his eyes. "You wield that weapon well," he said with a very light smile.

Isobel returned the grin. "Thank you. Although I imagine you had to fight with yourself when you saw it," she teased. "Had to keep your Templar training in check."

He frowned at her. "I was more focused on the army at our gates," he said, but there was a smirk at his lips. "Besides, you were using your power for the greater good. I suppose I cannot be against that."

Isobel felt a little twinge of guilt in her stomach. Why was he so determined to ruin the wicked banter? They had been at each other's throats for days after they first met, and now...after their talk...

Isobel gritted her teeth as the memory of what Solas said sprang back into her mind. Easily attached Commander Cullen...

She shifted and cleared her throat awkwardly, sparking his eyes back to her face. "I wouldn't look down on you if I saw you swing that sword you always have. Hugging it to you like a safety net."

He raised a brow at her and gave a little choked laugh. "I _was_ swinging this sword. I almost hope that I may someday prove my skill with it to you."

"As in you want to spring into action and save my life?" Isobel joked.

He shook his head a little. "Not that I hope to see your life in danger."

Isobel scoffed. "Lately it seems to always be thus," she said with a bitter roll of her eyes. He nodded and they stared at the flames, entranced again by either the way they danced or the company they lit. "But," Isobel said after a moment, looking up at Cullen through her lashes, "you  _did_ save me."

He turned his blond head towards hers and leaned on his knees, watching her watch him with thanks in her eyes. She had the power to both be hard as stone and soft as cotton, and it confused him greatly.

"I remember hearing your voice," Isobel went on, as if in a dream. "I was so ready to give up. I could feel my legs, frozen as they were, just crumble beneath me. And then I heard you. I...I think I even remember you running at me..."

"I did," he said, like he was trying to get her to remember the horrible incident. 

Isobel nodded very slowly, turning to look into the fire. "You caught me before I fell, and carried be back to camp," she said. Then, with a quick turn of her head she sat up straight and simply stated, "Thank you for that."

But Cullen just scoffed. "We all owed you our lives. It was the least I could do."

"Well thank you all the same," she said. "I owe you now I think."

He laughed. "You owe me nothing," he said. "Not when we owe you  _everything_."

Isobel frowned and sighed, closing her eyes and looking away. "Please don't say that."

"Forgive me," he said. "I did not mean to put so much weight on your shoulders."

"No, it's just that..." She hesitated, turning back to look at him. It seemed to her that he'd never looked away from her face. "With this failure? I don't feel very...Holy."

Cullen gave her a soft smile and a nod. "Yes, I suppose it feels a little disappointing for us all. But we'll regroup. You can be sure of that."

Isobel stared at him, taking a deep breath in, and then, "Cullen, the...the Templars..." She watched him almost flinch and look away.

"Yes," he said sadly.

"I'm..." It felt like acid in her throat, but even if her head told her to shut her mouth, her heart suggested otherwise. Isobel gulped. "I'm sorry." Cullen looked at her with puppy-like eyes. "If I'd chosen them," she went on. "If I'd...decided to get their help instead...maybe they would all be--"

"But then were would the mages stand?" Cullen interrupted. "Someone was going to fall, Isobel. I do not blame you for the choice you made. I can't blame you for this."

"Why not?" she breathed.

Cullen sighed at her. "There's more of a fighter in you than this," he said, almost as if it were a secret he was telling her after keeping it hidden for so long. "You didn't make a mistake. You did what was asked of you, no one can doubt that. But things will not always go as you want them to, and when they don't you just have to...keep at it. Keep moving. Keep  _trying_."

She smiled at him lightly. "Is this general advice? Or from personal experience."

Cullen smiled back. "Both."

Isobel gave a breathy chuckle. "Well. Thank you for it."

Cullen gave a shrug and sat up straighter, rolling his shoulders. "Trying to do my duty as an advisor." She laughed again and he met her little giggle with a chuckle of his own. "We shouldn't be laughing," he said, looking around.

Isobel followed his gaze. "Maybe that's what everyone needs," she suggested. "A bit of cheer."

Cullen nodded, though he seemed unsure. "I'm more inclined to this right now," he said, almost like he was admitting a failure. From the ground he lifted up a dark glass bottle that Isobel hadn't noticed before, and he swirled whatever was inside around a moment.

"What is that?" Isobel asked.

Cullen looked at her, then the bottle, then back again a little sheepishly. "I don't usually condone it but...It's brandy. To keep warm."

Isobel looked at the dark bottle a moment before casting Cullen a strange look through her lashes. She held out her hand and he chuckled, passing the bottle to her a little hesitantly. "I'm not much of a drinker," she explained, "but tonight I think I may start."

"I don't believe anyone would blame you," Cullen said, but he looked away as she took a sip. He only looked up when she started coughing. The displeased look on her face made him smile. "Not as smooth as you were hoping I suppose," he mused.

Isobel coughed one more time. "It just went down the wrong way," she explained. "And I don't feel any warmer."

"It takes time," Cullen said, reaching for the bottle back, but Isobel was already taking another deep sip. A long one, actually, and Cullen furrowed his brow. "Alright," he coaxed, standing up a bit and reaching for the bottle. He took it from her and shook his head as she coughed a few more times. "Easy on that," he told her softly, crouching in front of her as she tried to catch her breath.

"That's awful," she croaked.

He laughed slightly. "I don't think drink is turned to for it's flavour at the best of times," he said.

Isobel cleared her throat a bit before looking up at him. "Do you drink much?" she wondered.

"Not at all," Cullen answered truthfully. "I've been told I hold it well, however. I'm just not interested. There weren't a lot of Taverns in Templar training."

Isobel chuckled. "But I bet there were choirs," she joked as he sat back down on the log. "I heard you singing," she said softly.

He looked across at her in the fire light, her skin a warm brown with the orange glow mixing in. "I'm sorry," he said.

Isobel actually looked confused. "For?"

"For your ears," Cullen joked.

Isobel laughed more than he expected. "Well look at that!" she almost cooed. "The Templar can joke."

Cullen chuckled. "I don't make a habit of it."

"I hope not," Isobel sassed. "It wasn't a very good joke. Besides, my ears are just fine. Luckily Leliana drowned you out a bit."

"Well she didn't drown you out," Cullen said, though once the words left his lips he almost felt embarrassed by them. She stared at him a moment before he found the courage to keep talking. "I didn't expect you to know the tune."

Isobel softened. "I sang that song to a girl in the Circle every now and then," she explained. "When she was sad."

"Was she devout?"

"Very," said Isobel. "Sometimes she made me think that I could be to. But overall, I just liked the song."

"Maybe you liked it for that reason," Cullen said. "Maybe it gave you the same feeling of hope."

Isobel looked away a moment, but then her eyes bravely met his again. "I think in this case, it may have."

Cullen smiled at her but she looked away with an awkward smirk. She stared around the cavern as the fire crackled, and Cullen just watched her young eyes peer around with an optimism he'd thought she'd lost. Maybe, just maybe, though he didn't know why it would matter, Cullen thought that  _he_ was a bit of the reason behind the rekindled light in her eyes.

"You stayed behind..." he breathed.

She looked back at him, confused at first, but then her face turned slightly sad.

Cullen shook his head just barely. "You weren't even moved by it. You just...offered to stay. You could have--" He paused, frowning at her.

"It was close," Isobel agreed. "But...you're going to make me say it aren't you?"

"Say what?" he wondered softly.

She smiled. "You were amazing." Cullen's eyes widened, and Isobel thought she could maybe make him blush. "You knew exactly what to do, how to order, how to  _lead_. I'm so relieved that you...that so many made it out."

Isobel watched him breathe a moment. "As am I," he said. For a moment, he just watched her, and at last Isobel had to look down. "I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again," Cullen said. "You will never be expected to sacrifice yourself like that again. You have my word."

The severity made the brandy in Isobel's stomach swirl. She plastered a smile on her face. "I'll hold you to that," she said, relieved when he gave her half a grin.


	5. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although Isobel and Commander Cullen had somewhat set aside their differences, each still held dark biases and fears from their past. Cullen had explained his deep secrets, but Isobel...how could she possibly explain what had happened to her? Because of these pasts, certain reflexes may be hard to curb. And when those reflexes strike, tempers will rise.
> 
> (Isobel's past makes her emotions unstable, and Cullen tries to quell her fears)

"Good afternoon, Inquisitor."

"Hello, Inquisitor."

"My Lady Inquisitor."

Isobel didn't think it was possible to detest a title more than Herald of Andraste, but this one was starting to bother her. She was honoured to be so powerful, to have so much say, but she'd lost her ideas of rank and nobility long ago. She never imagined herself in a high role, stuck in the Circle as she was, and yet here she was released and free. And technically noble. And technically a leader.

It was a huge burden to bear. And hearing her new title everywhere was causing her a bit of-

"You are stressed."

Isobel gasped as she walked through the main doors of Skyhold. Cole had appeared out of thin air, as he was prone to do, and the afternoon sun blared down on his pale skin even through his hat.

She sighed. "I may have to put a bell around your neck, Cole," she said, shaking her head.

"Yes," he said, dead-pan. And dead.

Isobel blinked a few times. "Did you need something?"

"No," he said in his soft voice. "But you do."

"I'm alright, Cole," she said quickly, although she knew he would somehow see through that white lie.

"You are stressed," he repeated. "Anger. Fear. But also joy and pride. Do I want this? You are confused."

She laughed bitterly. "Wouldn't you be in my position?"

"You hide something," he said, and whether he meant to or not, those words made Isobel's skin go ice cold.

She frowned and blanched. "Cole. Please don't read me."

"But...I want to help," he said, apparently confused that she would refuse him. Isobel had been very kind to Cole up until this point, even defending him when others wanted to send him away. She didn't have the powers Solas boasted, but she could tell there was no danger with Cole. No malicious intent in him. He was perhaps odd, and more than a little spooky, but he was kind and compassionate. His ability to read people so well was concerning to her, and this wasn't the first time she'd asked him not to, but he only ever meant well. 

She'd known a mage back in Ostwick like him. A little slow, a little different, but so incredibly sweet. And not a Spirit.

"You do help," she said to Cole, fighting the urge to place a hand on his shoulder. "But I need you to help others. Not me."

Isobel was almost sure he wanted to say something else, but instead he gave a little nod. "Yes," he said, and when Isobel blinked he was halfway across the courtyard consoling a recuperating soldier. She smiled at the sight, and exhaled a breath of relief. She didn't exactly have the mind or the past for Cole's special technique.

Isobel had decided to get out of her room, and away from the war table, by taking a walk. She didn't like the idea that no one really knew her, that she was just an image. She wanted to show everyone who followed her that she was just a person. She didn't want to be a leader or a commander, but if she had to be she wanted to be a part of it all. Not some woman on a high horse.

As she walked across the yard, a few faces sheepishly smiled up at her and she gave them little nods of recognition. She told one group of soldiers not to bow at her, and she asked an elf man to not be afraid to talk to her. But she was almost across to the other side when one of the rebel mages approached her.

She was young, and she was scared, but Isobel slowed and gave her a pleasant smile. "My Lady Inquisitor," she started, wringing her hands. "M-My name is Eva."

"Hello, Eva," Isobel said instantly, coming a little closer.

Eva looked downright shocked that Isobel was even smiling. She gulped. "I...do not want to be a burden."

"Please," Isobel said. "Speak your mind. I will gladly hear you."

Eva gulped once more and tucked her short red hair behind her ear. "I only wish to report something." She stopped wringing her hands and stared bravely up at Isobel. "I was attacked yesterday."

Isobel's eyes widened. "What? Where?"

"Here. In Skyhold."

"By who?" Isobel spat.

Eva paused and looked back and forth, as if for prying eyes and ears.

"Please," Isobel said, softening her voice, which had become angry and stern. "You will not be named."

Eva took a deep breath in. "Commander Cullen."

Isobel's vision shook, and she suddenly felt warm. Her stomach turned to stone, and a nervous tick of her fingers started. Somehow, for some reason, she knew that if Eva had said anyone else's name, Isobel would have taken it a little better. She didn't have time to analyze why it was more painful to hear Cullen implicated, nor did she have the desire to think on it, but she just knew that his name was more of a shock than any other sound could have been. "Tell me what happened."

"I was exercising my gift," Eva said in a rush. "With other mages. Just some simple playful practice with flame. And then he was behind me. He grabbed my hand, made me stop, and told me...he told me never to play with magic."

Isobel gaped. "As in ever? As in you never should?"

Eva shook her head. "I don't know, my Lady. He simply said to never play with magic. It is not a toy, he said."

"And he grabbed you?" Isobel spat, feeling acid rising in her chest. Sparks tingled along her fingers as she rubbed them across her thumb.

"My forearm, my Lady," Eva said with a brief nod. "Very hard. I do not wish to cause trouble, only we hoped this would be a safe place. Away from the Templars."

"It is," Isobel said, reaching out and gently patting the girl's arm. "I am sorry for this. The Templars present here have mainly renounced their biases. They've been told to cooperate. I will handle the situation, I promise you."

Eva gave a little bow before scurrying off, and Isobel turned to face Skyhold with a burning anger that she had not felt in a long time. The march she made back up the steps and into the main hall looked to all the world as if she was ready to kill, and inside her body she felt a fury rising that she could not place. This situation surely could not have made her as angry as this, and yet she was fuming. The spark lit up her arms every now and then, and if you watched her closely you could see the magic, but Isobel kept moving.

She charged past her throne, a ghastly thing she liked to ignore, and shoving a door aside here and pushing past another there she made her way to the War Room. She marched through Josephine's study with determination, and the woman looked up form her work as Isobel strode through. "Inquisitor...Inquisitor?" she said, but Isobel did not respond.

The sun shone through the large windows of the war room as if it were a quiet lounge, and all her advisors stood discussing this and that. Cassandra leaned across the table and pointed something out to Leliana while Cullen looked casually over the markers on Ferelden. Behind her, Isobel could hear Josephine getting up and walking towards the room, but the presence of others couldn't stop her outrage.

"How  _dare_ you!" she almost shouted as she came to stand in the centre of the room.

Everyone looked up with varied looks of shock and fear on their faces. Cassandra spun around with wide eyes, and the slight smile on Leliana's lips drifted away as she stood up a bit straighter. Cullen just looked incredibly surprised, eyes wide with shock and confusion. No one had really seen or heard Isobel get angry. She was always full of humour and sly remarks, a defence mechanism. But today...

Isobel stared right at Cullen, and slowly Cassandra and Leliana turned to look at him as well. When he realized _he_ was the one Isobel had addressed, his shocked eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry?" he asked.

"How dare you lay your hands on a mage!" Isobel yelled, making Cassandra and Leliana stand up and step back.

"What?" Leliana asked softly, but no one responded.

Cullen looked completely taken aback, but soon realization seemed to come into his expression and he leaned forward slightly. "Is this about the incident in the courtyard?" he surmised.

"The one you conveniently neglected to explain to me?" Isobel snapped. "Yes. You are not authorized to act like that."

"Authorized?" Cullen spat. "I was performing my duties."

"You are not a Templar here!" Isobel yelled back, clenching her fists and letting a tiny purple spark drop to the floor. No one noticed, which she was grateful for, but she could feel the heat of magic all across her skin. Josephine walked into the room behind Isobel and stood in shocked silence like the rest of the advisors.

"It was not an act of a Templar," Cullen said defensively. "I would hope anyone would intervene in that situation."

"She was practicing," Isobel said. "This is not the Circle. She is a free mage. You do not get to prohibit what they do!"

Cullen leaned further across the table as Isobel stepped forward angrily. "What she was doing was unsafe. She was playing with a ball of flame like a toy! If she had lost control, it could have seriously hurt someone around her."

"You immediately assume she would loose control?" Isobel argued. "Do you think us so incompetent as to be unable to control our powers?"

"If it is anything like your temper, I would say yes," Cullen said before thinking.

 _"Excuse_ me?" Isobel snapped. The entire room somehow became even more tense.

Leliana moved forward slightly. "Did you attack the mage, Cullen?" she asked, trying to negotiate to some degree.

He turned his attention to her and finally away from the fuming Isobel. "I simply grabbed her arm. The moment she felt my hand she ceased."

"Because asking her to stop would have been to understanding of you!" Isobel said bitterly.

"Do you believe she would have listened to me?" Cullen said skeptically, glaring back at Isobel with determination.

"She may have if you'd tried!" she said. "And even if she had not, perhaps it is not your place to handle the mages!"

"Inquisitor," Cassandra said, trying to quell the moment as Leliana had, but it didn't derail Isobel.

"You should know your place," Isobel went on, "and it is  _not_ around mages."

"Know my  _place_?" Cullen snapped.

"Yes!" Isobel said, cutting him off before he could speak. "You are not to lay your hands on a mage again!"

"You make this about the magic!" Cullen yelled. "Had it been someone juggling a sword I would have intervened as well!"

Isobel scoffed at him. "I highly doubt it, with your bias!"

Cullen looked as if Isobel had slapped him. "I do not have to listen to this," Cullen scoffed back, waving his hand in the air as if waving her away. Which only made things worse. But he leaned back towards Isobel angrily, against his better judgement. "Perhaps it is  _your_ bias that is getting in the way of this issue."

"My bias?!"

"Yes! Your bias towards anyone who  _isn't_ a mage," Cullen snapped. "You have such a skepticism towards anyone who wields a blade instead of staff!"

"Commander!" Cassandra scolded.

"I'm only skeptical of  _you_ at the moment!" retorted Isobel.

"Inquisitor, please," Josephine said softly from behind, but that was enough. Isobel had had enough, and she felt a sudden wave of tears threatening to hit her eyes, though she didn't know why. Maybe it was because Cullen was right, or maybe it was because he wasn't the whole reason for her anger. Maybe it was because she'd caused a scene. Cullen stared at her for a moment in both anger and confusion, but Isobel spun away from them all and marched back through the door, slamming it as she went.

Her chest was heaving, and she tried to slow her pulse and clear her vision as she walked but nothing worked. She was shaking, and she tried to quell the heat in her hands as she came to a standstill in the big hall. Workers went about their day on the scaffolds, and people spoke here and there of many different things. Fires blazed, birds flew by the window, and Isobel couldn't breathe.

She turned and moved towards the stairs to her quarters, but she wanted air. She needed it. She thought maybe a breeze would stop the panic she was suddenly feeling in her chest. Ducking through a door and breezing past anyone nearby, she made her way out to the little bridge that led to the battlements. The cool air felt wonderful on her hot cheeks, and she raked in breath after breath as she stood there, hands on her knees.

When she heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind her she groaned. "Inquisitor!" she spun to see Cullen almost charging at her. "We need to talk," he said darkly.

"We absolutely do not," she snapped breathlessly, walking away and leaving him behind. She was technically heading towards his quarters, but it was putting distance between her and him and that's all that mattered.

But he followed. "We most certainly do," he said, closing the distance between them.

Isobel continued to retreat, her back to him and her head down. "You have your orders. Carry them out and leave me in peace."

"Oh is that what this is?" he said. "Peace?"

She whirled on him. "It could have been if not for you brutality!"

"I grabbed her arm," Cullen said slowly, as if he were explaining to a child. "There was nothing else to it. She was mocking the protection the Inquisition offered her. There was no practice, there was no concentration, only amusement at her freedom. It is _why_ I was nervous about your alliance to begin with. I don't agree with the way they were treated, but handing freedom to someone who never had it could cause anarchy! It was not an act against her powers alone, but in the way she handled them--"

"The same way I do?" Isobel interrupted. She'd been avoiding his gaze, shaking her head, and trying not to feel dizzy. "The same way I use my gifts every day while  _leading_ this Inquisition?"

"You do not make a mockery of it!" he argued. "You use your power when you must, not when it would be amusing to do so."

Isobel was still shaking her head. "You went too far, Commander," she said, turning away from him yet again.

Cullen sighed. "Perhaps my use of force was unnecessary--"

"Perhaps!?" she rounded.

" _But_ I stand by my actions," he went on. "And I still stand by what I said. If it had been anyone, I would have intervened." She glowered at him and he took a cautious step forward. "I stand by that," he repeated.

She huffed at him, wobbling slightly on the spot. "Then you will stand in my presence no longer," she said weakly.

"Isobel-"

"You are to never call me that!" she said, her eyes alight with an anger she could not understand. "That name was offered in trust. I thought you were a changed-" But she couldn't finish that sentence, because her skin suddenly broke out in a hot sweat and the corners of her vision went dark. She reached for the stone wall and felt her knees wobble.

"Isobel!" Cullen gasped her name and was at her side instantly. She didn't fight him off. She couldn't. Isobel was too focused on trying not to faint like a weak child. Even in her dizzy state she was chastizing herself, and it took too long for her to realize that his hands were on her. When she did realize, the panic that had just cleared came back, and her breathing increased.

"No," she whispered. "No, _no_ , stop!" She shoved at him and managed to get him to back away from her just barely, letting her go and letting her lean on the wall. "Don't  _touch_ me," she almost snarled.

Before Cullen could respond someone else was speaking.

"Afraid. So afraid, and guilty, and sad."

Cole appeared behind Cullen, making him spin around, and Cole slowly walked towards Isobel with determination.

Her head was clearing, but the sight of Cole coming to her side made her sigh and shake her head. "Cole, please, not now," Isobel said, but Cullen simply stared at the spirit-man as he looked at Isobel.

"You don't need to be afraid," Cole said to her. "No fear. No guilt. It was not your fault."

Isobel's heart hammered faster and she lifted a hand to ward off Cole's words, almost touching him, almost pushing him.

"Bring a healer," Cullen told Cole, moving back to Isobel's side as she retreated from him. "The Inquisitor needs help."

"Stop," Isobel said, whined, sighed,  _groaned_. Please, she thought over and over, Maker help me, stop...

"But you are free of it," Cole went on almost happily, ignoring both Cullen and Isobel. "You do not have to fear."

"What is he talking about?" Cullen asked.

Isobel shook her head but she knew. She knew!

"Hot, cold, so dark and yet so clear," Cole rambled, deep in Isobel's head. "I see it. I see their faces, the way they smile, and I shriek. What good will it do? What good? No one will help me. But you don't need to be afraid here. He will not touch you."

"That's enough!" Isobel shrieked, regaining her strength, but it was too late. It was far, far too late. Both Cole and Cullen simply stared at her, and when Isobel dared to look into Cullen's eyes she saw a horrible look of understanding and regret in his features. She knew he could see the tale in her face, the truth in the way her body trembled. The truth she'd never been able to outright speak in his presence. In his Templar presence...

"Find something productive to do," she snapped. "The both of you." And with that final command she moved passed them and was gone, rushing away, eager to escape to her room before anyone was the wiser. She needed a moment of peace, even if it was only a moment.

***

It was hours later, and Isobel was still in her room. No one had come to find her, and no one had apparently asked for her. The sun was down, and the sky was getting steadily darker, and Isobel sat by her fireplace with her head in her hands and her hair hanging about her fingers. She'd whipped it down from its usual tight bun the moment she got into the privacy of her quarters, letting her self breakdown a moment and fall to the floor like a little girl.

She'd sat there in a mess of heavy breathing and panic, trying not to be angry at herself or at Cole. Or at Cullen even. The memory had just come back to her so fast, so suddenly. Things like this had happened before, but she had ways of keeping it back. She had methods of control that she practiced over and over so breakdowns like this didn't happen. Or wouldn't happen. And now, when she had to keep face more than she'd ever had to, it happened. And that killed her.

She'd laid in bed for the rest of the afternoon, staring at the ceiling, singing to herself absently, trying to read...She hadn't been so lethargic in years.

Now, with the sounds of Skyhold dwindling into quiet night, Isobel was awake and unhappy and embarrassed and...miserable.

After a while she regained her head and realized she had no anger towards Cole, whom she was glad hadn't reappeared to talk to her. She didn't even know if she was mad at Cullen any longer. Mainly she was angry with herself, at her own outburst, and her own secrets. They were hers to keep, and she owed Cullen nothing, but he'd been so open with her. He had made the effort to bridge the gap between them, and in one afternoon Isobel had perhaps ruined it forever.

When she thought about it, she was still upset at what he did, but if her reflex was to accuse him of Templar tendencies, then surely his reflex was to be wary of magic. Especially when used so casually. And...Eva was probably being inappropriate.

Isobel sighed to herself. She should have calmly gotten both sides of the story. It's what a competent leader would have done.

From down the stairs, Isobel could hear the sound of a muffled knock, and it alerted her. Had someone tried to come to her before and she'd missed it? Or was this the first time someone was trying to talk to her? She should have left the room and gone about her business, just to show that she was alright. Maybe everyone could have pretended nothing happened. But now she'd been hiding like an angry teenager.

The knock came again, a little stronger, and Isobel sighed before getting out of her chair. She ran her fingers through her hair and went down the stairs slowly. She wished she looked a little more put together, but regardless of that she drew the large door aside.

Cullen stood before her, head bent, eyes up, looking sheepish and embarrassed. Isobel's nerves went off like a shot, and for a moment she thought she felt an odd sense of butterflies, but she tried to remain composed. She also tried not to slam the door in his face, not out of anger, but out of sheer embarrassment at herself. "May we talk?" he asked, his voice low and empathetic.

Isobel blinked and looked back up the stairs to her room for a moment. "I suppose if I say no you would just station yourself outside until I agreed."

He gave her a vague smile. "We do seem to share a stubborn streak."

But Isobel couldn't smile or laugh. She had been broken today, and it was only with his presence that she truly realized how down-trodden she felt. With a little nod however, and a step aside, she gave Cullen permission to follow her up the steps.

"Maker, they spared no expense here," Cullen said as he reached the room, and Isobel gave him a look of interest. Those were the words she had said when first entering her room, and as he looked around the space she took a moment to stare at him up and down. The peachfuzz on his cheeks was a little darker than his blond hair, and his eyes were somewhat small but expressive. She realized she hadn't really taken his looks into consideration before, though she didn't exactly analyze everyone's face. But she decided, vaguely, that Cullen wasn't unfortunate looking. At all.

But then she felt odd and took a seat at the fireplace once more.

Slowly he meandered over to her, leaning on the chair across from her and taking a deep breath. "We have to stop meeting like this," he said lamely, gesturing to the fireplace.

She wanted to laugh but she couldn't. "Please don't try and brighten this mood," Isobel said defeatedly. She looked up at him and saw concern in his features. "And don't look on me like I'm a kicked puppy."

He chuckled. "I imagine you more as an angry mabari, forced into a kennel." But again, Isobel couldn't smile, and it seemed to throw Cullen off for a moment. Isobel had been getting used to his seriousness, but she could tell he wasn't accustomed to this attitude she was now in. In fact even _she_ was unused to it.

"May I?" Cullen asked, gesturing to the chair across from her. She gave a nod and leaned back in her own seat, watching as he attempted to make himself comfortable in his armour. He was always ready for a battle.

For a moment they just sat in silence, each looking about the space as if it were new to them both. Once again, as so often happened in their talks, the fireplace seemed to catch their eyes and release their tight shoulders. 

"I am sorry for what happened today," Isobel said just before Cullen could. She said it quietly, sadly.

He exhaled slowly. "I believe we are both at fault. Both in our actions and our tempers."

"Another trait we apparently share," Isobel said bitterly, leaning on her hand and staring at the carpet under her feet.

Cullen leaned forward. "But I also believe there is something in each of our pasts that continues to spark our anger at each other. Is there not?"

Isobel could feel his eyes on her, but she was too afraid to look at him. For a time she'd thought she knew him better, understood that he did not want to be associated with the Templars anymore. He told people to stop calling him Knight Captain. But today had thrown her. And awoken something dark that she'd tried to keep back.

"You know my troubles," Cullen went on when it was clear she wouldn't speak. "I told them to you freely and I've still no expectation of you telling me the truth."

"I think you can guess," Isobel said in a tone much sharper than she'd wanted.

Cullen sighed. "Perhaps. But...it does not affect my opinion of you. Nor does the events of today. I hope you know this." Isobel gave a tiny nod to show she understood. "And similarly I hope that I have not fallen from your good graces."

"As if you were so very high in them before," she said, but she brought her eyes up to his and gave as much of a smirk as she could. And it made him smile wider than she'd expected it would. But then she shook her head. "How can you be so forgiving of me? I essentially struck you down in front of everyone."

He gave her a shrug. "Years of me being everything  _but_ forgiving have left me wanting to change that," he said softly.

Isobel gave him a sincere look but shook her head again. "You're so honest to me. And I'm horrible to you. Both as a leader and a..." She actually couldn't say friend, and it embarrassed her enough to look away, ashamed.

"As an advisor," Cullen said casually, "I understand it is business first. But," his voice softened, "I would hate to be on such negative terms, Inquisitor."

She flinched. "Oh shit, forget that," she said, making him laugh lightly at her curse. "I was angry. Just...Isobel. I don't know why I was so..."

"I understand," Cullen said as she struggled for the word. "And you never have to explain."

Isobel took a steadying breath and met his eyes. "I told you there were bad men. Templar men."

He held a hand up to stop her. "You needn't put yourself through it," he said. "I would put your trauma higher than mine."

"I'd say they both fit into the category of torture," Isobel said dismally.

He gave a sad nod. "Perhaps we now know where the other stands in it all."

She nodded. "I suppose we do."

"And I  _am_ sorry."

Isobel smiled gently and leaned back in her chair with a more casual air. "As am I."

"The mages only see me as a Templar," Cullen explained, "very much the way you do. I didn't think before I acted and I should have."

"I don't think of you as only a Templar," Isobel blurted out, much to her own astonishment.

Cullen raised his brows. "Do you not?"

She shook her head and went with the confession. "I was angry. And yes, at first, that's all I could see of you. But...I know it's hard for us both to adapt to this change. You with accepting magic easily, and my handling freedom."

"I think you're handling freedom quite well," he joked.

Isobel smirked. "It's a perk I'm getting used to. But still. I remember what we discussed before...about it being simply a title. I think we keep forgetting that. A mage is what I will always be first and foremost, but it does not rule me. Neither does my past."

Cullen gave her a proud little smile and it made her feel like a weight had been lifted off her chest. "We shall fight our pasts together then," he said.

"Together," Isobel agreed, but the word hung in the air and made her heart skip a beat with some new sensation. She could see the look on his face shift as well to one of...bashfulness?

"I should leave you to rest," he said abruptly, rising from his chair and causing her to stand as well.

She gave a nod and brushed her hair back. "Of course," she said, trying to act business-like, but the moment felt suddenly different, as if they were both flustered by some unseen force.

Cullen paused. "Your hair," he said absently, gesturing to it. "It's down."

Isobel's brows furrowed. "Yes. It is," she said, reaching up to brush it back.

"It isn't usually," he finished dully. "It's longer than I thought. It...looks nice."

Isobel's eyes immediately widened again, and for a moment all she could do was stare at him as he avoided her eyes. She was suddenly very confused...And possibly blushing?

"Thank you, Commander," she said awkwardly.

"Cullen," he almost snapped, looking into her eyes quickly and giving a tight-lipped smile.

"Yes, of course," she said. "Cullen."

He watcher her say his name, then cleared his throat before giving her a little bow from his head and turning away. Isobel listened to the door close and continued to stand at the fire for far too long.


	6. Apologies and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobel needed to get something off her chest, at least when it came to the way she'd treated Varric. After her meetings with Hawke, she could understand why Varric had wanted to keep her a secret. And that meant apologizing for the way she sided with Cassandra.
> 
> But Isobel isn't the only person hoping to get something off their chest, and what Cullen has to explain concerns Isobel greatly...
> 
> (Isobel talks to Varric about Cassandra and Hawke, and Cullen confesses his lyrium choices)

The main hall of Skyhold seemed to be perpetually filled with scaffolding. No matter how long Isobel was away or how much she got done, she always came back to construction. But she was starting to get used to it. It was nice to see people going about a task so relatively simple as repairs. It was the same sensation she got when listening to the lively singer in the small tavern, or watching the few young refugee mages running around the courtyard. Life was far from simple nowadays, but reminders of its ease brought her comfort.

Today, however, she had an important task. One she'd been meaning to accomplish for a few days now.

"Varric," she said, approaching the dwarf as he sat cleaning his crossbow in the yard. "May I have a moment?"

"Of my time?" he asked with his usual sly grin. "Why, I'm honoured."

"The honour is mine," Isobel said with a smile. "I wish to apologize for the way I handled the situation with Cassandra."

He leaned on Bianca playfully. "Oh? Why the sudden change of heart?"

Isobel sighed. "With this search for the Wardens, I've gotten to see a lot of Hawke lately, and I can understand why you wanted to keep her a secret. She seems a great ally, and I do wish we'd had her support before, but all you wanted was to protect a friend. And that is the noblest act of all. I wish I'd seen it before."

Varric seemed almost speechless, but he gave her a smile and said, "Well now you have me blushing. But...thanks. Nice to know you can see things my way."

"I never meant to make it seem like I didn't appreciate what you have to offer," she said. "When you apologized for not doing better...it made me feel like a horse's ass."

Varric chuckled and set Bianca down. "It wasn't my intention to make the grand Inquisitor feel like a scolded little nug. But I still appreciate you coming around to my side."

She held a hand up. "I'm on no one's side here," she explained. "I understand your protection as much as I understand Cassandra's anger. Don't tell her I told you, but her real issue was with how easily she was deceived by you."

He laughed. "What can I say? I know stories."

Isobel laughed as well. "You do indeed. I do appreciate you contacting Hawke in the end."

"I know she'd want to be here," Varric said. "Especially with 'The Elder One' on the loose," Varric mocked. "No way I'd miss this."

"Need revenge?" Isobel asked playfully.

"More like answers," Varric said. "He should have been dead."

Isobel nodded and shifted her weight. "We'll figure it out, Varric. I promise. But regardless, I'm glad we had this chat."

"Me too, Inquisitor," Varric said. "Just let me know if you ever want to apologize for something else."

She chuckled. "Well I hope I don't betray you again in the future."

"No betrayal," Varric assured her. "Just hot heads."

***

Isobel was already feeling better, but the combination of clearing her conscience and trying to plan battles and strategies was plaguing her mind rather strongly. Not to mention the assassination plots going on all around her. Whether it was one of her companions in danger, or an entire nation, Isobel had more than enough reason to be distracted.

As she rounded the corner to head up to the library for a little peace and quiet, the toe of her boot caught on an upturned tile and sent her flying.

Or it would have done, if not for the presence of a certain constantly appearing Commander.

Cullen caught her with ease, standing like a rock as she tumbled against him with a little shriek of surprise. When she looked up he was chuckling at her. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Sorry, yes, in a daze," she replied simply, a little out of air.

"You do seem distracted," he said.

Isobel shook her head. "Anyone would be. With the battles and the threats and the constant nagging to fix the world, it's a little hectic." He gave a breathy laugh. "But," she went on, "I got something off my chest at last."

"That's always good," Cullen said with a little flare of seriousness touching his eyes. She stared at them for a little too long, maybe...

But then Isobel gave a little start and pulled her hands away, as they'd been resting on Cullen's chest for the entirety of this dialogue. Cullen too then gave a little jump, moving his own hands which had been placed gently on Isobel's hips since he caught her.

They each stepped back and gave an awkward little smile to each other, both pretending the heat in their cheeks wasn't really there. After all, it was simply embarrassing, nothing more.

Isobel gave Cullen a little nod. "Thank you for the assistance, Reflexes," she said with a smirk before ducking past him up the steps.

"Actually," he said, turning to watch her. "On that note..."

"On the note of reflexes?" she asked jokingly, turning to face him.

He gave yet another breathy laugh. "No, actually. On the topic of getting things off one's chest." Isobel's blood froze. "Do you have a moment of time to spare? I'd like to discuss something with you that I think it only fair that you know."

"Uh oh," Isobel said.

"What?" he asked concerned.

"You sound far more serious than you usually do," she said, "which never bodes well."

He smirked and looked at his feet before replying. "I simply feel you have the right to know. If you could find me in my study later, I would appreciate it."

"Sounds like I would too," Isobel said, but all he did was give her a nod and release her from his stare, heading out the archway and leaving her concerned and flushed on the staircase.

***

Isobel had decided to take some time to lower her suddenly sky-rocketing blood pressure. She meandered around the Library for a while, staring out windows every now and then in some odd dream state. It wasn't until she realized that Cullen's request was weighing on her that she finally stopped trying to distract herself and got up.

The sun was setting elegantly across the battlements, and as Isobel walked slowly towards Cullen's door she started to feel herself slow for some reason. What did he need to discuss? It had been a while since he'd been so serious, and it was throwing her for a loop. They'd bounced back and forth between acceptance and anger at each other so often that she didn't know what to think about this meeting. But before she could truly overthink it she was knocking at his door and stepping inside.

The room was warm, awash in an orange glow from both the light of torches and the setting sun. Cullen sat at his little desk with his cloak draped across the back of his chair, and when Isobel entered he looked up from a report in his hand. "Ah. Thank you for coming," he said, all business. "As the Inquisitor, I feel there is...something you should know."

She closed the door. "What is this regarding?" she asked, walking forward as he stood to greet her.

He gave a heavy sigh. "Well," he began lamely. "You know how Templars take Lyrium in order to control and enhance the powers they possess."

"Of course," Isobel said, trying to keep her tone light.

"And you know that, if a Templar stops taking Lyrium, they risk a great deal," Cullen went on, making Isobel more and more concerned. "Some go mad. Others could die."

"Why are you telling me this?" Isobel interrupted, disliking this conversation more than she let on.

"We have a supply of Lyrium for the Templars here, the ones who have freely joined our forces but, I've stopped taking it." Finally, at long last, he looked up at her as he leaned across his desk. "I haven't taken any since I joined the Inquisition. It's been months."

Isobel couldn't keep her mouth shut. "You stopped? Why?"

He stood up straight. "I've told you I wanted to leave those ties behind me. And I've tried to. You've seen me fail at it a few times," he said sadly, "but I intend to cut my Templar side out completely. Lyrium is meant to augment Templar powers, but it controls us as well. I won't be controlled by it any longer."

Isobel felt he never truly would, but his ambition was impressive. If not frightening. "Isn't this dangerous?" she asked.

"I've asked Cassandra to keep an eye on me," he explained. "I won't put the Inquisition at risk. She will watch me. For any...signs. If I lose control, she has her orders."

"To what," Isobel asked bitterly. "Cut you down?"

"If need be," he said. "Otherwise, I will simply be relieved from duty."

Isobel frowned, but she looked away to try and cut off as much of the expression as she could. She took a steadying breath and looked back to him. "Cullen, if this could kill you..."

"Whatever the suffering, I accept it. It's a risk I'm willing to take," he said, and his honesty made her feel a little weak. She didn't like the idea of him throwing his life into the fray so easily. But then, he was a warrior. He'd spent his entire life this way, she imagined. Always having to be on the guard, and always taking risks.

But.

"What if it is not a risk I am willing to take?"

He looked at her oddly. "I'm sorry?"

She sighed. "You do matter. To this Inquisition. What if I don't want to risk my Commnder?"

Cullen stayed silent for a moment, staring at her in something like wonder. It threw her off a moment and her eyes twitched all over the place. Finally, he answered. "I...didn't think about that aspect."

"You didn't think about yourself?" Isobel asked, shocked. "Or how your loss would affect us?"

"Oh I gave it thought," he said, shaking his head. "But I didn't imagine I mattered so much."

"You do," Isobel said, unaware of the subtle implication of that statement. "Are you in pain?" she asked after the brief silence.

"I can endure," Cullen said as stiff and proud as ever.

Isobel actually smirked. "Well you do seem alright. And it's been this long...You haven't noticed anything yet?"

"You will be told if I do," Cullen said, discussing his own sanity, his own life, so simply. "I swear to you."

With a sigh, she relented. "I suppose I understand."

He looked surprised. "You do?"

"Yes," she said. "If this is what you feel you need to do...then I'll support you."

He gave her a small smile that hid lingering worries. "I will put the Inquisition first, of course. For all other matters I will defer to Cassandra but...Thank you. Isobel."

She gave a half-hearted nod. "You're welcome, Cullen." But please, she thought to herself, please be cautious.


	7. Stars and Awkward Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen couldn't sleep. Whether it was his nightmares, his Lyrium withdrawal, or his stress, he couldn't stay in bed. But there was something else pulling at his mind that he just couldn't get a hold of. Little did he know that someone else was having the same trouble.
> 
> (Isobel and Cullen share a moment under the stars, and Isobel realizes something drastic)

Cullen woke up with a gasp, bolting upright in bed and feeling a cool breeze hit his hot skin. His chest pounded and heaved, and as he stared around him he realized where he was. Safe. No one stood over him with a menacing grin, threatening torment after torment. He wasn't bleeding, he wasn't trapped, he was safe in bed, alone and free. But the dreams still held him. The nightmares. He wondered vaguely if they would fade with lyrium, but it wasn't something he wanted to tested. Not in the least.

With a groan he ran his hands through his hair and then over his face. He slowly turned his head to one of the window arches of his makeshift room, spying the hints of starlight from outside. It made him feel somewhat more peaceful. It was nice to remember, when he was in a mood or when his nightmares were particularly bad, that the world went on. Outside of his mind, outside of his problems, there were others. Somehow it was soothing to know other people had challenges, and that it was not just him. Elsewhere in the night someone else might be having a bad dream, waking up in a sweat, panicking over darkness...As cruel as it was, he was so grateful to remember how others suffered. 

The night seemed to call to him, and as he peered through the small window he felt the need for a walk. A late walk, obviously, and naturally the soldiers on guard might start to whisper, but for some reason he needed the air. He wanted to look out over the valley in the night, and watch the sky drift across. To his troubled mind, it seemed like a dream.

Dressing in every piece of his armour, Cullen knew that if he stepped outside this late at night he must look the part. He wasn't one for rumours or gossip. He'd had more than enough of that. After going to Kirkwall, he had to battle the vicious lies that claimed he'd gone mad in Fereldan. It had made all the Templars give him a wide berth for a long time, and indeed, back then he almost preferred to be left alone. But he was sick of rumours. Even if he enjoyed people staying away from him back then, the nasty comments whispered behind his back still stung. No matter how bitter his heart had been, it could still be crushed further.

The night was never so clear. Skyhold, or the mountains surrounding it, always seemed to be clear in the day and overcast in the night. It had been so long since he'd seen the stars. And oh how they shined. 

Cullen paced the battlements, letting the breeze hit his skin and bring him into an even greater state of wakefulness. He was...happier. Or at least more content. He knew vaguely that he should be sleeping, and that there would be a lot to do tomorrow that a tired man couldn't handle. But for now, he just needed to be calm. Sometimes he feared going to bed so much that he would wait hours just to tire himself out. It was a horrible sensation to feel his chest tighten at the prospect of sleep. But out here, in the clear air, where men saluted him as he passed, he was in command. Both of an army, and of himself.

As he pushed through another door, almost smiling to himself, he jumped and retreated into the doorway. Standing on the battlements, dressed but looking a little haggard, stood the Inquisitor. Isobel, he reminded himself. It felt odd to use her name, and yet every time he did he felt as if a little shiver would run down his spine. It was a gift she'd given him, and he didn't use it lightly.

Isobel didn't see him, apparently. Nor had she heard the door creak open. With her arms crossed over her chest, her hair in her usual tight bun, she stared up into the Heavens with a slight slack jaw. It almost made him chuckle. She looked surprisingly younger as she stood there, seemingly in awe of how long and wide the sky was. At that thought however, Cullen felt a little pang of pity. How often had she gotten this chance? To really see the night sky? Outside? She'd shared little with him about what her life had really been like, although from what she'd told him he was already horrified, and he wondered whether or not she would ever be used to this freedom.

But she looked much the way he imagined his own expression had been; content and quiet, calm and thoughtful. He looked her up and down as he hid there in the shadows. Her curved frame was hidden slightly by the little shawl she wore around her shoulders, and her full lips were almost a little pursed. She looked lovely, but maybe a little sad. Her skin looked a little darker in the night, but he could still see how clear it was. How young.

Maker she was young. If he didn't know just by looking at her, he'd know by her family background. Josephine had done a wonderful job on finding out all she could about Isobel, and she'd shared the information with Cullen like a good gossip. But even with her youth, Isobel always carried herself with a great maturity that only slipped off when she thought people weren't looking. Or when she made her ridiculous wise cracks. In fact, Isobel made  _Cullen_ feel young, younger than her even, as if he were a wide-eyed boy again.

...Cullen blinked. What was he  _doing_?

Suddenly Isobel turned, raising her brows at the sight of him standing there. Watching her. He emerged from the door and cleared his throat. "Apologies, Inquisitor. I did not know anyone was out here," he said with a blush.

"It's alright," she said easily. "Don't let me stop your walk. I was just going."

He almost rushed forward. "Don't let me spoil your evening. Or...night."

Isobel gave him a little smirk. "I could say the same thing to you." 

"You wouldn't spoil it," he said kindly, but in her face there appeared a little tremor, and she looked away. Isobel stared back up into the sky and gave a deep sigh. Cullen took his time in walking over to her side. "Can you not sleep?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I probably could if I tried," she said. "I just didn't feel quite tired enough yet. I thought maybe a walk would help." Isobel turned and looked at him with her incredibly dark eyes. "And you?"

He gave a crooked smile. "The same, actually," he semi-lied. It made her smile and that was good enough. Cullen looked up into the sky. "It's a nice night for it."

"Mmm," Isobel mumbled in agreement, looking back up into the stars with the hints of her smile still dancing across her lips.

Cullen leaned on the cold stone beside her and pointed up at the stars. "That is the Banner of Andraste. There."

Isobel seemed to flinch slightly at his proximity, leaning away a moment, but she followed his hand and blinked to make out the star. Cullen noticed her lean just a little bit back into him, following his gesture. "Where?"

"Do you see those two stars?" he said. "See how it tapers at the bottom, like that." Cullen drew the picture in the air with his gloved hand for her, and Isobel gave a soft smile.

"I see," she said, turning to look at the side of his face. "Do you know much about constellations?" 

Cullen leaned on his elbows and clasped his hands together. "Not much. I used to be more interested in it, but, hobbies die out."

Isobel scoffed. "I never had a hobby."

"What, none?" Cullen asked, turning to face her.

She gave a shrug. "Reading. I sang sometimes but...it wasn't much of a hobby. You're only allowed so much in the circle," she said darkly.

Cullen frowned and looked out across the mountain range. "Do you think you'll ever adapt?" he said gently.

"To?"

"This," he said, waving his hand across the great expanse.

He won a chuckle from her. "I admit, it's slightly daunting. I don't think I'll ever like snow again."

He laughed as well. "Not after the storm you fought through after Haven. I can imagine you never want to be that cold ever again."

Isobel shivered as if on queue. "I remember. Ugh." She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as a slight breeze blew in off the horizon. "Perhaps I should go back inside..." she mumbled, as if to herself.

Without a second thought, Cullen stood straight and reached behind himself to unclasp his cloak. "Please, allow me."

Isobel looked utterly taken aback. "No, it's quite alright, I--" But the cloak was already around her, draped over her shoulders with a disturbing amount of care. She stared at Cullen when he pulled away, as if in the process he'd grown another head. Before he could really notice, however, she looked back up at the stars.

"I only ever knew the Chantry constellation," Isobel said, tilting her head. "I can't see it here tonight, though."

Cullen followed her gaze and scanned the stars. "I can never remember its exact location myself," he said, his voice soft and thoughtful. "Ah, there," he said at last, pointing it out. "On the horizon."

"Oh yes, I see," Isobel said with a smile. "Hmm. Smaller than I remember."

"Disappointed?" he asked, peering down at her.

She shrugged. "Everything is different when you're young. Sometimes, I wish I could switch my mind to that of a child's. Just when I need to."

Cullen gave a sad nod. "It would help at times, I can imagine."

"Maybe I'd get some sleep," Isobel sighed, leaning on the battlement wall with Cullen's cloak draped over her like a blanket.

He turned and looked at her with shared unhappiness. "Sleepless nights for you as well?"

She didn't look at him but she scoffed. "I'm starting to understand your nightmares."

"For your sake, I hope you're not."

Isobel looked up at that, only to see Cullen staring at her with some strange light in his honey eyes. He looked...different here in the night. He looked not so much the Commander, but simply a man. She studied him, and slowly a little smirk hit her lips.

"What?" he asked wryly.

"I'm just not used to the banter," she said. "Conversations, I mean...I didn't have many."

"Many conversations?" he asked. "Or many friends."

She didn't answer but her momentary silence told him which was true. "I imagine we have that in common. Somewhat. You were young when you joined the Templars, no?"

"I was," he said. "I made a few friends here and there but it was never easy. And not really encouraged."

Isobel nodded. "The Circle was no different." But then she slowly smiled. "I told you how I sometimes looked after the younger Mages. There was one girl, Abigail. She was only a few years younger than myself but I became something like a sister to her. A mother, sometimes I would say. I kept her by my side when Ostwick fell. I held her hand so tight that day." Isobel sighed and Cullen couldn't keep his eyes off her. "The day I left for the Conclave she wanted to come. I told her to stay put, and that I'd see her soon. Told her to keep out of trouble," Isobel smirked, eyeing Cullen cheekily.

"If she takes after you at all," he said, "I doubt she listened."

Isobel laughed and looked out over the battlements once more. "I hope she's out there still. Somewhere safe. Away from all of this." Isobel yawned and shook her head. "Seems like talking to you bores me," she joked.

Cullen chuckled, and when he blinked he could feel his own eyes starting to drift towards sleepiness. "I think this may be the first time we've talked without anger coming up."

Isobel sighed. "It might be," she agreed. "It's..." She didn't finish her sentence, even as Cullen watched her and waited. He saw her face go blank, and whatever word she wanted to finish with finally fizzled off her tongue.

He smiled lightly at the side of her face and looked away. "Perhaps it's time for a second try at sleep."

Isobel took his cloak from her shoulders with a nod and held it out to him. "Thank you," she said. "You're quite the chivalrous Knight."

He took the cloak from her, and his fingers met hers, and even though his hand was covered by his glove, the touch seemed to shock Isobel. "I'm starting to not hate our talks," he said, matching her joking tone. Then, knowingly, he looked into her eyes. "It is nice to have a friend."

Isobel blinked at him in something like terror, as if she worried he was mocking her, but when he stayed soft she smiled. But it felt tight. "Good night, Cullen," she said before turning away.

"Good night," he replied, and in a moment she was around the stairs and headed down them.

As Isobel descended, she felt odd. She felt something in her stomach like nausea, but oddly comforting. It was warm, yet she was cold, and in her cheeks she could feel a sensation of burning that she wasn't accustomed to. She felt nervous. At least she thought it was nerves, because her body was shaking as if she'd just done something that terrified her and come out the better for it.

 _It is nice to have a friend_.

Isobel froze at the bottom of the stairs and gasped. Putting her hands to her lips, a sudden wave of fire seemed to rush her mind, and she almost felt dizzy. It was normal that she wouldn't be able to realize it. There had been no one at the Circle. She'd spent too much time keeping away from all that, after the trauma of...

It was logical that she would have been blind to it. Until now.

"Maker save me," she whispered as she walked slowly across the yard.

 _This_ was not logical. She realized now that, in hindsight, she should have felt it. If she had more experience, maybe she would have. Maybe she would have noticed her lingering glances as of late, or the way she felt more comfortable around him. More comfortable than she ever was around anyone else at least. They were already friends. They had been for a good stretch of time now. After she exploded at him, things had settled down, and every time they caught each other in the halls or spoke over the war table, it was easy.

And before she knew it, he'd grown on her. Like a bloody fungus on a log, he'd grown on her! Like a parasite! Like an illness!

Like a charming person could grow on anybody.

Ex-templar or no, he made her heart pound. It was irrational, it was an infatuation, it was  _nothing_.

But she cared for him. Isobel the Inquisitor, the Herald, the  _mage_ , cared for Commander Cullen.


	8. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobel was having trouble sleeping. If it wasn't over the responsibilities she had, it was over her wildly childish fancies. She'd never cared for anyone in the Circle. It had been hard to feel anything there.  
> But when a wild storm hits Skyhold, Isobel will be thrown at Cullen, butterflies or no.
> 
> (Isobel tells Dorian of her emotional troubles, and a freak storm throws her at Cullen's feet)

The day was early, and it seemed to Dorian that everyone was trying their best to relax. It wasn't often the Inquisition got a day off, and Dorian wouldn't really call this one, but no one was going anywhere. There were lands to hold and influence to gain, enemies to slay and people to assist, but today seemed to be devoted to the small things. Handling Skyhold construction, diplomatic disputes, rumours across Thedas...

...Good thing he planned to stay out of all of it.

Dorian spent most of his time in the library, perusing the interesting amount of titles Skyhold had to offer. When he was young--well, when he was old in fact--Dorian had always been a bit of a book worm. There was just so much they had to offer! Intrigue, knowledge, adventure, romance...Not that he didn't have those things in his day to day life, however. Perhaps he owed his dramatics to his constant reading.

As he walked around the tower, peering over the railings now and then, he happened to cast a glance into one of the little alcoves only to spot the Inquisitor. Well, Isobel. He considered them friends, after everything they'd been through. After all she'd done for him. He still felt in debt to her for bringing the letter from his father forward. She could have just dragged him unawares to Redcliffe, but the fact that she didn't meant more to him than she would ever know.

They spoke often, what with her interest in Tevinter and their shared expertise at humour. She was curious about free mages and the idea of them being somewhat in charge, and he liked to watch her face light up, mesmerized, as he explained. For a girl who'd spent almost her entire life thus far trapped in a cage, he could only imagine her interest at the world. Because of all this, she'd become something like a confidant, and he hoped in some ways he was hers. After so many years in something like hiding, Dorian felt that it was nice to have someone to talk to for a change. Other than himself.

She sat in a big wing-back chair with a book in her lap, but she leaned on her hand and stared absently out into the courtyard. Dorian smiled and ducked into the little alcove easily. "It's nice to see that it's not just me who spends time up here," he said casually. "I was starting to think I was the only one who knew how to read."

He braced himself for her smile, her chuckle, or her witty comeback...but nothing came. In fact, it almost seemed like she didn't hear him.

Furrowing his brow, he tilted his head and stepped a little closer. "Isobel?" he asked.

She seemed to jerk awake. "Oh," she said, turning to face him. "Dorian. Sorry. I was just..."

"Distracted," he noted. Reaching down he took the book from her lap. "Have you even read any of this?" he asked, looking at the title and snickering. "Naturally one of Varric's tales would be up here."

She shrugged. "I wanted something simple. A..." she sighed, "a distraction."

"From?" Dorian queried playfully.

She scoffed. "Everything." When Isobel looked up at him he could see the gears whirring in her mind. Her little innocent smirk suddenly twisted to a worrisome little line of tension on her face. 

Dorian grimaced playfully. "Now don't look like that," he said, sitting on the little table across from her. "If  _you_ break down, where will that leave the rest of us?"

Dorian was pleased when she chuckled lightly, but he could still see the worry in her face. "It's funny," she said, "so many horrible things going on right now and all I can think about is a stupid, useless, idiotic..." She drifted off and Dorian rolled his eyes.

"Well out with it then," he said. "You can't expect to bait me like that and not spill all your Inquisitor secrets."

"That's just it," she said wearily. "It has nothing to do with the Inquisition. Well, I suppose it does in some ways," she added quickly. "But...Dorian, we're friends, are we not?"

He laughed. "Coming right out with it then?" he smirked. But then he was more sincere. "Yes. I consider us to be friends. It's been a while since I've considered anyone to be so."

"Me too," she said. "It seems I'm making some here though." Dorian would imagine that was a good statement, but the look on her face suggested there was something bitter to that statement. "If I talk to you about something," she started, "will you never repeat it?"

Dorian raised a brow. "This sounds quite ominous. And like it calls for a drink."

Isobel shook her head. "I don't think the Inquisitor should be seen drinking her cares away."

"Well in private then," Dorian suggested. "If you don't need a drink then _I_ certainly do." She um'd and ah'd but he stood and pulled her from the chair. "Come now, sad little one, go to your quarters. I'll get a bottle and meet you there. Then, you can tell me this deep dark secret that seems to be keeping you up at night."

She frowned. "How do you know it's keeping me up at night?"

Dorian sighed and put his hands on her shoulder. "You've got black half-moons under your eyes that give it away."

Rolling her eyes, Isobel sighed. "Do you think it's wise?" she asked. "What with all the rumours of our alliance."

"What, to be in private?" he laughed. "Do you think I'll make a pass at you?" Isobel raised a wry brow and it just made him laugh harder. "Exactly. Run along, and I'll be by soon."

***

They sat in silence a long while, Isobel pacing back and forth in front of the divan, staring at Dorian's thoughtful face.

"Well?" Isobel finally asked, the cup in her hand almost empty. For the second time.

Dorian took a deep breath in. "I think you can't be serious."

She frowned. "I was hoping for a little bit more than that," Isobel said, stopping her pacing just to stare at Dorian in earnest.

He sipped from his own cup and leaned back. Suddenly the shock on his face seemed to dwindle, and it was quickly replaced by a hearty laugh that built and built.

"What?" Isobel asked anxiously. " _What?"_

"No, no it's nothing," Dorian said, waving it away. "I just...You  _would_ fall for him, wouldn't you?"

"Why?" Isobel wondered. "Why is it so obvious that this should happen? Originally, we hated one another!"

"Yes, originally," Dorian agreed. "But don't you know that's always how good romances start? You're well read, are you not?"

She shrugged. "Not with romance."

"Well I am," Dorian said, leaning forward on his knees and staring her down as she perched on the arm of a chair. "Some of the best stories I've read start with the lovers absolutely despising each other. The drama, the excitement, the  _fire_. Full on hatred, you know what it's like. And then here you are."

Isobel groaned. "But...I don't even know if it's real. I can't tell. Perhaps it's just a passing fancy!"

"You can't tell?" Dorian almost spat. "What do you mean you can't tell?"

Isobel sighed and ran a hand over her tired face. "I've never been one for romantic inclinations. It's not in my repertoire."

He laughed at her.

"Stop that, this is serious!" she scolded. "It's much different in the Circle. You're always being watched, and if a Templar thinks you're growing too fond of someone they find ways of putting an end to it. For me, there was never anyone that I wanted to risk anything with. I did my best to keep to myself."

"With that humorous defence mechanism?" he asked. "I'm surprised you weren't the class clown."

Isobel smiled weakly. "With the people I spent time with, I was. In public I was like an Ice Queen."

Dorian gave a little nod, admittedly finding it hard to imagine Isobel as anything but her sassy self, and finished off his drink. He could imagine it a little, Isobel shutting down in the face of adversity. It reminded himself of _his_ methods too. In many ways they were similar, which sometimes disturbed him, but in this case it gave him a bit of an advantage. "Alright then," he started. "You can't tell if you truly like Commander Cullen or not."

Isobel shrugged but there was a little blush in her cheeks. "It came on me so suddenly. And I like his friendship," she started off. "When we talk it's not as painful as it used to be. And...he's quite nice. Very nice, actually. And shyer than I imagined, but you can see it there." She seemed to go off into a little dreamy state as she looked into her cup, and Dorian snapped his fingers at her.

"Alright then, what else?" he asked with a smirk.

She sighed yet again and shook her head, looking out onto the balcony and at the sunny day. "I keep thinking about him. What it would be like if he were here right now or what I could talk to him about next. Not to mention being desperate to know more about him. I keep making up fanciful ideas of his life and they're torturous."

Dorian laughed again despite himself. "It sounds very much like you're infatuated."

"And that leads to more?"

He bobbed his head in a yes and no fashion. "Sometimes it comes to nothing. Sometimes it blossoms. All you need is to find out more. There may be something that clinches it, either for better or worse."

"What do you mean?" Isobel asked.

"Well, you've somehow managed to get past his Templar background," Dorian said, "but there may be more to him that you dislike. Then again, there may be more to him that you..."

Isobel's eyes widened. "What, that I  _love_?" she spat.

He smiled. "I wouldn't rule it out." Isobel groaned and slumped down into the chair, facing the unlit fireplace and rubbing at her temples. Dorian stood and grabbed the bottle, bringing it over to her and topping up her glass. "I tell you what I'll do," he said. "I've found a willing chess player in the Commander. Maybe I can try to pry a bit, give you fair warning. See if I can spot anything of interest. Meanwhile, you do what you can to get to know him more. _Don't_ overdo it. Even with your inexperience, I have a feeling you may turn out to be quite the flirt."

She gave him a sidelong glance but there was a playful smile at the corner of her mouth. "Would you really do that for me?" she asked after a momentary pause.

"I'm sure I owe you at least three personal favours," Dorian smirked. "I suppose throwing myself at the Commander could be one of them."

She smiled and shook her head at him, and he held his cup out to her. They clinked them together before downing their drinks.

***

The clouds gathered fast, and before anyone could suggest that it looked like rain or snow or hail, it was all happening. The tents in the courtyard blew away before anyone could peg them down, and robes and hair caught the wind like sails. At first it was an icy rain, followed fast by heavy snow, and soon enough it was hailing large pellets of ice.

When the rain hit, Isobel ran outside to help batten down the hatches. With a coat thrown over herself, and a hood up around her ears, she and the rest of her troop did what they could to get everyone inside and find a place for tools and tents and bags. The horses in the stables were panicking, and Isobel sent Iron Bull and Solas to soothe them, hoping the former could control the animals while the latter calmed them down.

Cassandra took point in helping get soldiers and mages into the hold, grabbing this and that as the wind jostled everyone around. It seemed to catch in the yard as if the little court was a net, and every now and then the wind would actually make Cassandra stumble even in her armour. 

Inside, Josephine and Vivenne attended anyone who was wounded, as branches and stones had gone flying here and there. Dirt slashed people in the face, and many were soaked to the bones.

Isobel was running to find Cole when the hail began. Up on the battlements, the wind was worse, and once or twice Isobel feared she would be thrown right off the edge. She needed Cole to help calm people, soothe them, but blast that Spirit, she couldn't find him anywhere! She was hoping he was already hard at work, but all she could do was run to where he liked to spend time and hope to find him there. 

She ran through the tower rooms, helping or instructing soldiers as she went, and when she burst out again into the storm a crack of lightning lit up the sky. She stared up into the clouds in horror and awe, two feelings that left her feeling a sublime sort of fear and wonder. But the hail was hard, and the boom of thunder seemed to spark it into an even more frenzied state. Isobel tried to block herself with a barrier, but she'd never excelled at defensive magic. The wind blew her hood back, exposing her skin to the elements, and her barrier slipped away over and over again. She could only keep it up for a moment longer, and when it dropped, a huge pellet of ice found its way to her head.

Isobel yelled and slipped, falling to the wet stone of the battlements with a grunt. The back of her head knocked into the stone, and the ice kept coming down. She shrunk in on herself instinctively, pushing herself out of the middle and towards the walls with little hissing gasps as the ice pelted her. She scooted until her back hit the wall of the battlements, but there was no shelter there. The storm was directly above, and she could hardly keep her eyes open from the rain and the ice and the wind.

But a shadow was suddenly cast over her, and she felt something almost like warmth. "Isobel!" Opening her eyes and looking up she saw Cullen, standing above her like a statue with a shield over their heads, the image of a saviour. He held the shield aloft so steadily, even as ice bounced off the metal with hard clanging sounds, and he looked at her with wide eyes. "What are you  _doing_?" he yelled at her, holding his hand out, but she only had eyes for his eyes.

He looked wild. And wet. But he showed up like a hero as he was so akin to do. Isobel slowly realized that his quarters were just to her right, and he reached down to grab her. "Come on!" he yelled.

"Wait!" she replied as he dragged her across the battlements. "I have to help!"

He pulled her a little too close. "You're bleeding, Isobel," he said in a harsh tone, and as if on queue she could feel something warm dripping down her cheek. Cullen proceeded to pull her against him with his free arm, keeping the shield above their heads and dashing for the door as the hail came down. He shoved the thing aside easily, almost pushing Isobel in ahead of himself. He followed quickly and shut the storm out with a groan and a sigh.

The room was warm and dark, and Isobel could still hear people yelling in the distance, trying to get everything organized. But everything seemed immediately distant the moment he closed the door.

Cullen sniffled and wiped his face off as he set the shield down by the door. Shaking his head, his curly hair flinging little droplets this way and that, Cullen gestured to the blaze in the hearth. "Come to the fire," he said, touching her arm and guiding her again.

Isobel had to admit she did feel incredibly cold. Not as frozen as her trek through the snow from Haven, but cold enough to be grateful for a fire. She stood before it for a moment before Cullen came to her once more. "Come here," he said with an unnerving amount of softness. He reached up to her forehead but then stopped, removed his glove, and proceeded. His fingers brushed her skin, apparently indifferent to the blood there, and Isobel became hyper aware of how alone they were.

He prodded at the cut on her head so easily, all the while completely oblivious to how her wide eyes stared at him. She felt dizzy. She felt nauseous. She wished she could say with confidence that it was due to the knock on her head.

"Why didn't you have a barrier up?" Cullen asked, almost scolding her for not using the magic he feared.

She blinked blankly and shivered again. "I've never really been good at that," she admitted, still staring at him. He was so easily close to her. Did he not feel nervous?

Cullen just gave an understanding nod. "Here, take off your coat," he said.

"Why?" she asked, teeth chattering.

"It's drenched. You'll catch your death if you leave it on," he argued. "I'm going to get a cloth for your head." He turned away from her and Isobel had to agree that her coat was soaking. It wasn't leather, but a simple yet fine wool. It had been covered in water within five minutes of being outside.

She struggled to get the wet thing off, and Cullen seemed to notice. "Here, let me," he said kindly, coming around Isobel to slide the coat from her shoulders. He was very liberal, she felt. Or perhaps it was just her recent discovery driving her insane. She could feel his hands through her clothes as he worked the coat off her arms, and once it was free he touched her shirt sleeve to check for its dampness.

"That's not too bad," he said, almost running his hand along her arm. He draped her coat close to the fire before moving off. Isobel shivered by the blaze as she watched Cullen go about his business. He threw his own cloak off and ascended the little later up to his makeshift room. When he came back down gracefully, he had a blanket. "Seems I'm always trying to keep you warm," he joked lightly, throwing the blanket around her shoulders and pulling it across her tight.

"Would you stop?" she snapped suddenly. His motions slowed and he pulled back a bit. "I'm not a fragile little flower, I'll be alright."

He cocked his head at her. "I'm not...I don't think you're a damsel in distress," he defended. "I would do this to anyone who was stuck in the rain. Or who was hit in the head with a ball of ice." Once again he reached to her forehead and touched at the cut there.

She flinched away with a little embarrassed gasp. "Please keep your hands to yourself," she said.

Cullen seemed confused at first, but then his eyes widened and he stared at her. "Maker's breath, I didn't even think," he said, suddenly appalled at himself. "With all you've been through. I completely forgot, forgive me."

Isobel stared at him a moment, confused as well, until the realization dawned on her. She grimaced. "Oh, no! No, that's...not what I meant," she sighed. With a groan she turned to the fire again.

"What _did_ you mean?" Cullen asked.

How would she ever answer that question? As he'd poked and prodded her, almost caressed--at least to her mind--she hadn't even thought about her past. Perhaps some of the nerves came from that repressed memory, but mostly it simply came from Cullen's presence. Just his aura seemed to give off this warm, alluring glow that drove her insane.

But now she knew. Deep in her gut she felt a reflex trying to act up that had never acted before. She wanted to throw herself at him, though not necessarily in an intimate sense. She just wanted to put her arms around him, like a comfort, and all the little touches he'd given her weren't helping. She wanted to know what it felt like to be held sweetly, kindly. She didn't want to be grabbed and pressed, prodded and pulled. She wanted to he held. Particularly, by him.

She really was a lost cause.

Before she had to think of something to say, Cullen was handing her a cloth. "Here," he said softly. "Your head."

"Oh," she said, suddenly remembering that the side of her face had a little stream of blood on it. She put the cloth to the cut and pulled it back, shocked to find less blood than she imagined.

"I don't suppose you can heal it?" he asked. She shook her head. "Well, it doesn't look too bad," he told her, craning his head to see the little cut. "It won't scar as bad as mine, at least," he joked, pointing to his lip.

It made her laugh a little before she could stop herself, and the laugh was far more akin to a foolish little giggle. When she looked up at him, he was smiling at her so charmingly that it cracked her heart in two. Isobel wasn't usually one to notice things like this, but he was lovely to look at. His eyes were so expressive, so eager, and they roamed around her face while still making it feel like he was staring into her. It made her gulp.

"Thank you for the help," she said stiffly. "I...should get back out. It sounds like the hail has slowed down."

He frowned. "Isobel, they can do this without you. Most of the soldiers are out there gathering the last bits. They're more prepared for this and dressed far warmer than you."

"You think I can't help?"

He gave a sigh. "I'm not saying that." She seemed to exasperate him a bit, and Isobel bit her lips into a hard line. "I'm only saying that you don't have to do everything. You're already being asked for so much."

"I know," she said. "I've done well so far. I can give a little more."

Cullen shook his head and stepped forward. "Isobel-"

She whipped the blanket from her shoulders and handed it back to him. "Thank you, really. I appreciate it. But I'd like to help. I'll be more careful, I promise. I'll go inside and aid that way."

He unwillingly took the blanket and watched in a sense of frozen shock as she grabbed her coat, threw it on, wiped the blood from the small cut on her forehead, and practically ran away.

When the door shut, everything seemed far too quiet to Cullen. He stood there, the blanket in his hand, a little droplet of water dripping down his neck, and stared at where she'd once been standing. It was as if he'd seen a ghost. Isobel always seemed prone to be in one place one moment, then another in a blink, and tonight proved that. He hadn't even had time to think of another reason to get her to stay. He'd used the weather, he'd used her injury.

_Maybe you should have just said you wanter her to stay._

Cullen's eyes widened at himself. And then he laughed. What a foolish thing to think! Cullen didn't  _want_ her to stay. He would have  _liked_ her to stay.

No.

It would have been  _safer_ for her to stay. Yes, that was it. Surely the wind and the hail and the cut on her head were enough reasons to stay indoors. But maybe she didn't want to be trapped here with him. He sighed. That was far more likely. Whether or not they'd mainly set aside their differences, Cullen could imagine Isobel still wasn't perfectly comfortable around him. He started to wonder if there were people she  _was_  perfectly comfortable with.

He'd seen her spend time easily with Cassandra, talking about this and that. He wasn't sure how much of it was friendship and how much of it was Inquisition, especially with Cassandra having been Isobel's original captor. But that almost made him...mad? If Isobel could get along with someone who had thought her a criminal to begin with, why did that leave him on the outskirts? 

But also  _why_ would that upset him? He had no reason to be upset over Isobel's friendships.

Unless he liked her.

Cullen froze. Was he pacing? He was still holding the blanket in his hand, gripping it and dragging it slightly across the floor as he walked in apparent circles around his little office. With a near grunt, Cullen threw the blanket down onto the chair and ran a hand through his damp curls. His fingers got stuck, and he grimaced. Rain. He hated it.

Cullen shook his head and sighed at himself, listening as a boom of thunder echoed off in the distance. Here he was, cooped up inside as the storm raged on, walking and thinking in circles about...about...He rolled his eyes at himself and threw these strange, silent thoughts out of his head. There was too much to do right now. Far, far too much. Not just tonight, and not just for the next little while, but for the foreseeable future. Letting a little bit of admittance slip into his heart, he realized that it didn't matter what he thought about Isobel. Yes, he wanted to be on good terms but...

The little smile she always brought to his lips didn't matter. It gave him a little chill to think about it all, but he had to push it back, push through it so he could function. Friendship was one thing but this had to be business first. Her giggle didn't matter. The way she let her hips sway if she was in a good mood, and even the way she walked stiffly if she was lost in thought, didn't matter. The pain in her eyes as she made a passing joke didn't matter. The fact that he'd wanted to touch more than just her face tonight didn't matter.

"Maker," Cullen breathed, standing and staring at the door for a long while. He'd seen this coming, at least a little bit, but he'd always felt it was a subtle little thought in the back of his mind. A sort of 'I wouldn't say no' idea, but definitely an 'I won't initiate'. Until now. Now he thought maybe, maybe he _would..._

No.

That's what she would say. No.

Defeated as he'd just made himself feel, Cullen puffed up his chest and braved heading back into the storm. He was a Commander first. A leader who should most likely be working, struggling with the troops he controlled. Besides, the madness outside was better than the madness within.


	9. The Ghosts of Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With rumours of hauntings floating around Skyhold, Isobel-who is regularly awake at night-takes it upon herself to find out the truth.
> 
> (Bonding time between Cullen and Isobel)

Cullen shut his door and let the cold air wake up his shaking limbs. Dressed in only his trousers, boots, and a shirt, he shivered in the wind but embraced it.

Sometimes he really thought he couldn't do this. Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn't be easier to give up and just...

His stomach hurt, and his mind was restless enough to make his body twitch under the sheets. He tried to calm down, tried to breathe and just think about something light, something that made him happy. But when those thoughts turned to Isobel, all hope of sleep faded from his mind.

And he got up. So many nights lately he got up and left his room, so late at night that the bare minimum of soldiers were out across the battlements, and meandered the halls. It was easier that way, walking here and there, trying not to think, having something other than his pounding heart beat to think of.

It was wrong of him, and he knew it, but a lot of the time he'd still think of her. For some reason he'd made Isobel his beacon, his resolution. Whenever he felt like giving in, giving up, or calling everything quits, he thought about how disappointed she would be. It was one of the main reasons he told her the truth about his whole Lyrium issue. The fact that she was concerned for him, but supported him, spurred him on. After all, if she was a beacon of hope to others, why couldn't she be one to him?

He had his doubts about  _why_ she was a beacon of hope to him. About  _how_ he viewed her. Isobel wasn't an icon to him, because he had the privilege of knowing her. Everyone who worshipped her or criticized her didn't realize that she was flesh and blood, a person like any of them, who just happened to have unfortunate luck. Or maybe incredible luck. Cullen had never been sure if he believed Isobel was sent by Andraste herself, but there was definitely something about her... _  
_

Maker, she was beautiful. Cullen almost groaned to himself as he walked quietly about but it was true. Every time he thought about her, all he could picture was her smile, hear her laugh, see that little raised-brow glare of hers...Why couldn't it have been some scarred warrior or foul-mouthed dwarf? Why was it always beautiful women? First Solona, then Hawke, now Isobel. Not that Cullen had been interested in Hawke, and he'd ruined everything forever with Solona. But Isobel? It wasn't just her looks. There was more to her; more than the kind heart he found in Solona, and more than the diplomatic righteousness in Hawke. It all came together with Isobel, just...everything!

Cullen stopped in his walking and stood in a dim hall, sighing. His voice echoed off the walls and he dragged his hands down his face.

And then heard footsteps behind him. He turned over his shoulder, staring into a darkened alcove, and saw nothing. Narrowing his eyes he slowly spun to look into the dark space. He knew there was another hall leading back downstairs, but...Now he didn't hear footsteps. He walked slowly towards the little hallway, continuing to head into the darkness...

"Cullen?"

He spun back around, staring back to the path he'd been on while reaching for a phantom blade at his hip, when he stopped. He'd crouched down a bit, ready for a fight as his reflex, but at the sight of her he straightened up and softened his face.

Speak of the devil...

Isobel was wearing a massive robe, and it hung heavily over her nightdress. She looked both pleased and surprised to see him, dressed almost in the same haphazard way as himself. Her hair was in a loose braid tonight, and strands of her dark locks hung in her face as she stared at him curiously. "What are you doing?" she whispered with a smirk.

He chuckled softly. "For someone who claims to be ignorant of stealth," he joked at her.

She smiled, and if he hadn't already known he was lost to her, that grin would have sparked it. Her smile..."I didn't mean to sneak up on you," she said softly, walking forward a bit. "Can't sleep?" she asked.

Cullen took a steadying breath and sighed it out, nodding. 

"I keep meeting you on your walks," Isobel said. "We're starting to make a habit out of meeting alone."

He smirked at her. "We meet in groups too," he told her.

"I know," Isobel said. "I mean that...I just...always seem to find you by yourself. Or by  _myself_. As if I'm supposed to."

Cullen blinked at her in surprise but she looked away, staring at the melting candles embedded into the stone walls. When his eyes drifted down as if of their own accord, he suddenly realized how exposed she was. He gave a gasp which made her look back at him, startled, and he turned away. "Forgive me, I...I didn't realize you...I mean I  _realized_ , but..."

"Oh, no, it's fine," Isobel said, but she closed her robe a little tighter. Her easy laughter encouraged him to look back. "I didn't even care," she mumbled, almost to herself. She seemed surprised by that fact. She looked back up at him with, what Cullen thought, was the hint of a blush in her tanned cheeks. And he just numbly stared at her. "I, uh...in the Circle, you don't care," she started strangely.

"How do you mean?" he asked quietly.

Isobel shrugged. "I mean you share such close quarters with people. Your state of dress doesn't really matter in the end."

Cullen's brows lowered. "From what I remember, men and women had separate floors most of the time. And children too."

"Some places are more lax than others," Isobel said.

"Yes," Cullen agreed a little sadly. "I suppose that's true."

Isobel nodded slowly, looking away a moment, and Cullen wondered if he should perhaps bid her good night and move on. He didn't _want_ to, he realized, but he should.

But then her head snapped back to his face and he tried to look as if he hadn't been staring. "Maybe you should try reading? Or...exercise," she suggested.

Cullen blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"To get to sleep."

"Oh! Oh...yes. I've tried," he told her. "Have  _you_ tried?"

Isobel nodded. "I'm not used to having trouble sleeping," she admitted.

"Really?" Cullen mused. "From what you've said I...only imagined sleeping in the Circle was..."

She laughed at him and stopped his awkward phrasing. "You don't have to tip toe around my past," she told him. "I'd actually rather you didn't."

"Forgive me then."

Isobel paused, taking in Cullen's kind face. "You ask for that a lot," she said softly.

Cullen gave her a smile that was just a tiny bit bitter. "I need to ask for it a lot."

She raised a brow at him that said she didn't believe him, but it made him flush slightly and he looked away with another sigh. "I really can't envision you being..." Isobel stopped, pursing her lips as if searching for her final words.

He braved looking back at her, sheepishly through his lashes. Cullen always felt like he should keep his head bowed when she was around, and he didn't know if it was due to respect or shyness. He used to be shy, he'd always  _been_ shy, but then ten years passed in inner turmoil and he'd forgotten what it felt like to...Cullen gulped. He'd forgotten what it was like to  _like_ people.

"You can't envision me being what?" Cullen asked, trying to get his voice higher than a whisper.

Isobel sighed. "You know how I tried to find a reason to hate you?"

Cullen laughed. "I recall it."

Isobel chuckled back. "Well I'm glad you're at least aware that I was trying," she said. "But...Even then, and especially now, I can't envision you being as hard and cold as you've said."

Cullen looked at her curiously. "Even with my Templar past?" he asked.

Isobel nodded as if she too was shocked at herself. "Even with that. It...frightened me, at first. And then it angered me. But there were only small instances when you showed any kind of affiliation with cruelty or biased thinking. And logically I really should have seen that all you meant to do was give advice, give your opinion. But I couldn't see it then."

"Where is all this coming from?" Cullen asked lightly, trying to give a little laugh as if to trick his blush into staying at bay.

Isobel shrugged and looked away, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "Your forgiveness. I don't think you need as much as you say you do."

Cullen actually scoffed. "Allow me to disagree."

"But-"

"I do not like what I was," Cullen said, cutting her off gently. "For ten years I let myself be ruled by a fear that should have only made me wiser. Instead it seemed to make me more foolish. If you'd known me then, I can't imagine you'd be saying such kind things to me."

Isobel looked a little shaken at that, and Cullen had to admit he was almost thankful for that. He didn't like to pretend he was without fault, and he didn't want anyone to pretend that either. But in the darkness, Cullen thought he saw just the hints of a blush in her cheeks. "Well you're doing well so far," she told him. "Keep up the good work, soldier."

He chuckled softly, but something creaked or cracked behind him and Cullen looked back into the darkness with frown. "I wonder," he said, "did you see anyone else about tonight?"

Isobel looked at him curiously as he turned back to her. "No. Why?"

"I swear I heard footsteps behind me before you arrived," he explained. 

"Is that why I startled you?" she smirked, coming to stand beside him as he peered down the hall once more. "You were on duty, Sir Knight?"

He smirked sideways at her and she grinned. "Not exactly," he said. "But. I'd feel the terrible Knight if I didn't escort you back to your quarters."

Isobel rolled her eyes at him and gave a breathy laugh, walking ahead into the dark. She left him behind there, but she didn't exactly say no. So he followed. "Not that I imagine you need my help," he said.

"I'm not as afraid of Skyhold as I am other things," Isobel said with a shrug as he fell into step beside her. Isobel yawned. "I hope I've succeeded in tiring myself out," she said, looking up at him as they went downstairs. "You look tired," she told him.

Cullen felt it. "Thank you for pointing that out."

She frowned. "No, I mean...are you alright? With everything?"

He knew what she meant, but he looked away and gave a curt nod. "So far I'm fine." When he looked back, Isobel was pursing her lips at him. He tried to give her a reassuring smile. "The nightmares would happen Lyrium or no."

"You're sure?"

Cullen shrugged lightly. "They did before." He caught the sight of her sad look from the corner of his eye, but before he could try and even attempt to comfort her, they were at her door. Well, the first door. But he didn't want to let her leave...

"Well," she sighed. "Thank you for the escort." Isobel gave him a tight, wicked little grin and he smiled at her gently. "What  _would_ I do without you?"

He laughed. "Hopefully you'll never have to find out."

"Hopefully," Isobel agreed.

And then they both just froze. Paused in terrified realization of how incredibly familiar that was. Cullen looked away first, and Isobel took that absence of his eyes to grimace at herself. When he looked back at her she tried to look calm. "Well I hope you get some sleep," he said.

"And you," Isobel replied, giving a nod that was nearing military sharpness, and she opened her door at last, retreating inside. Cullen listened to her go up the stairs, and he let out a long exhale and slumped his shoulders. His cheeks were hot, but he felt...better? Talking to her had made him sleepy again, not in the sense that she bored him, but in the sense that he relaxed. Even as he was terrified of saying something stupid, and even as he embarrassed himself, he felt better.

Talking to her was nice. He felt different when he was alone with her, as if he wasn't so old, as if he wasn't a Commander. As if he hadn't been a tyrant for years. As if he were just Cullen. He'd never been just Cullen, at least not since he was a child. He was Templar in Training Cullen, then he was Templar Cullen, then he was bruised and battered Cullen, and now? He didn't get the chance to be a person really, but when he was alone with her that's what it felt like. But he rarely got the chance. Unless they randomly met alone...

***

"I'm tellin ya, for the past week I swear I hear footsteps!" Lysa said as she kneaded the dough for bread one morning.

The kitchen maids all rolled their eyes, but Lysa still went on.

"This place, I'm sayin this place...It has to have lingering spirits from the past," Lysa went on. "Wha with the age it is? No one even remembers who owned the place first. Or who built it! Bound to be some things lurkin in the shadows. And with that thing in the sky? Maker bless us, we'll all be possessed soon!"

"Lysa, there couldn't possibly be demons running around Skyhold," Ella said, looking up from where she sat cutting up apples. "The Herald would surely know!"

"The Inquisitor now," Margaret said, eyeing Ella with determination.

"Well she's still the Herald," said Ella. "She can be both."

"Whatever!" Lysa said, leaning across the table at the younger girls. "Demons already roam these halls. You've seen that...thing...that whatever he is."

"Yes, but he isn't going to possess anyone," Ella said. "Everyone knows that's a different case."

Lysa scoffed. "So they tell us. But I hear footsteps, I'm tellin ya! Late hours of the night too. And it don't sound like any kind of guard or solider I ever heard."

"Maybe it's just people," Margaret suggested.

"But I go out some nights to try and catch a sight of em," Lysa defended. "And I never hear a sound. The moment I poke my head out my room it stops."

"So it's your imagination," Ella giggled, making Margaret smirk.

"It's none of that, I promise ya," Lysa scolded. "Last night there was giggling!"

"Well that's surely people then!" Margaret said. "Secret friends or lovers," she cooed, poking Ella with her toe and laughing.

"Yes, Lysa," Ella agreed. "I doubt demons giggle."

Lysa frowned at them. "Ghosts, then," she said.

"Oh ghosts," Margaret said with a roll of her eyes. "You're dreaming, Lysa. Forget about it."

"I'll prove it to ya both," Lysa said, grumpily going back to her bread. "I promise."

***

Cullen laid in bed for over an hour until he decided it was useless. Whatever the reason, his eyes wouldn't stay closed. He didn't feel anxious, and he didn't feel afraid. He wasn't in pain and he wasn't overly thoughtful. He just would not sleep. He felt wide awake with a sensation he couldn't exactly place, but somehow he just wasn't sleepy. Even when the nightmares took him, or the pain kept him tossing and turning, he at least felt tired. Tonight he felt alert. Eager.

Eager?

He threw the sheets back and dressed in a daze, throwing himself together with as little care as he had the night before, and he slunk across the battlements into the main hall.

The moonlight flooded into the great space, casting shadows over the last remnants of scaffolding. The braziers on the walls glowed dimly, and the sound of his boots echoing across the floor was the only sound in the air. Cullen realized, as he stood there like a statue in the silence, that he was looking for her. Hoping horribly that she couldn't sleep again. It was a nasty thing to hope for, but these late night moments of catching her in the halls or on the balcony seemed to be the only way he could get her alone. At least the only way he could do so without being a coward.

Really he should just ask to see her, but how did that work here? How did that work at all? Cullen wasn't exactly the best at romance, having been cooped up in a tower most of his life.

Like Isobel.

He'd actually never thought of it that way before.

As he stood there somewhat stuck in this new, odd realization, the sound of a door closing echoed in the distance...followed by a hissed curse. It made Cullen smile both at the sound and at the fact that he knew instantly it was her. 

He followed the sound to the stairway leading down to the kitchens, seeking her out like a hound on the hunt. Cullen frowned at that analogy, even though  _he_ thought of it, because he didn't want to be the predator. He just...liked her. It was plain and simple. Seeing Isobel was becoming his favourite past time, as if just getting a glimpse of her were a hobby.

He frowned again. Any way of thinking about this somewhat stalking interest he had going for him was going to sound wrong. Just on that principle, he was almost ready to turn around and go back to his room. But then the kitchen door opened, and Isobel snuck out with a piece of bread in her hand. Her back to Cullen, she didn't see him standing there, waiting for her to turn and catch him.

"Late night craving?" he finally asked.

Her reaction was both wonderful and terrifying. She gasped loudly, spinning around and holding a hand out at him. He leapt back as her fingers erupted in flame, and he held his hands out in surrender before she realized what was happening. With another gasp, Isobel pulled away and sheathed the magic on her fingertips. "Cullen! I am...so sorry! I can't believe I...I just..."

"No, I...I shouldn't have startled you," he said, slowly lowering his hands as they started to shake, watching as both he and Isobel caught their breath. "I didn't mean to."

"No I know you didn't," she said, covering her face with her hand. "I'm so sorry." She took a step towards him and it crushed his heart that he flinched. Isobel looked like he'd slapped her. "Mafarath's _balls_ , I can't believe I did that," she sighed, staring at him wide eyed and clapping her hand to her forehead.

Cullen's heartbeat was still fast, and he felt a little trigger in his mind going off, but he blinked at her...and he laughed. Somehow, the precipice he worried he was standing on became a long path, and he laughed.

Isobel stared at him, confused. "What?"

Cullen chuckled. "Your cursing. I don't think I'll ever take it seriously."

Slowly, steadily, Isobel started to giggle along with him, her voice a little breathy and deflated from the ebbing adrenaline. "I'll consider this pay back for last night then."

Cullen smiled. "I'll go with that," he said.

Isobel stared at him for a moment, and then she slowly shook her head. "Why do you always find me?" she asked.

"Luck?" he shrugged. "Shared misery?"

She laughed bitterly. "Misery loves company," she said, raising a brow at him as he gave a slow nod. "Can you not sleep or is it...is it nightmares?"

"Tonight? Or in general?" he asked.

She frowned. "I dislike that there's a general option," Isobel said to him, and even though she was clearly pitying him, it was oddly flattering. 

"Tonight it was simply restlessness," he told her. "You needn't worry over me."

"I do, though," she said as if it annoyed her. "You have to be at your best," she said with a little smirk. Isobel actually reached out and gave his shoulder a playful shove, and he let the force of her barely there hit make him step back. He looked at her with a held-back laugh, and she just chuckled and walked away. She was always walking away from him, ending any conversation they had, and Cullen had originally imagined it was due to her unwillingness to talk to him. But lately he felt it was more of a defence mechanism for _anyone_.

"I don't believe your reasoning for finding me," she said, turning around and looking at him as he stood there...awkwardly watching her. Her face was soft and almost serious. "Are you just becoming my personal shadow?"

"I'm not trying to be," he chuckled. "You're just...oddly hard to miss." Cullen gulped and walked forward as she eyed him. "But also, I still think it _is_ shared misery. After all, two people not sleeping in a fort full of people who _are?_ We're bound to come across one another."

Isobel scoffed. "Well this is our new version," she said, turning towards the stairs and mounting the first few as he followed around the corner. "Our old version started with fireplaces, than balconies and stars, and now restless nights." Isobel looked over her shoulder to see Cullen frozen there on the stairs. He was looking at her oddly. "What?" she asked.

"You remember every time we've run into each other?" he wondered dreamily.

She stared at him a moment, eyes frozen, swear words running through her mind. Then. "Do you not?" she asked, turning the tension to him instead. She turned around and continued up the steps with a blush.

Cullen looked at his feet but followed. "I...I do, I just don't exactly...I remember it as chance occurrences. I don't really recall the where and why, just the-" He stopped as they reached the main hall.

"Just the what?" Isobel asked, staring up at him with those deep eyes.

The who, Cullen finished in his mind. "The moment," he lied. "Just the moment it happened. And what we talked about."

Isobel smiled but it looked almost half-hearted, as if she were disappointed. "We don't get a lot of time to just talk, do we," she said, as if pulling at thoughts in his own mind.

He smiled softly. "No. I imagine it's harder for your advisors. You don't drag us around Thedas with you."

Isobel laughed and Cullen grinned. Making her laugh was like treating himself, and it was almost a selfish feeling.

"If I did drag you around Thedas," Isobel mused, "you'd just complain the whole time."

"I would not," Cullen said, furrowing his brows at her but smirking.

"You would," Isobel said. "You dislike taking orders from me when it's at the war table. You'd hate it in the field."

"Maybe I would be the one giving orders then," he challenged.

Isobel leaned back and raised a brow at him, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head at him. "You wish you gave the orders, don't you?"

"No."

"Yes!"

"No!" he laughed. "I was...I'm teasing you. You tease me enough, it's only fair I  _try_ to stand my ground."

Isobel laughed and dropped her arms, looking back to where the door to her room sat waiting. She almost glared at it before turning back around. "You know," she mumbled, fidgeting absently with her fingers, "you're different when you take your armour off." 

It was half a joke and half sincere, and all Cullen could do was look down a moment before casting her an almost grateful glance. She so easily got into his head without even realizing it. "I like to think I can...be what I need to be when I need to be it. And be myself the rest of the time. I lost myself for a long while, it's nice to...be back. At least when I can be."

Isobel watched him explain with a gentle smile on her face, but it turned wry the moment he was done. "That's very profound," she teased.

Cullen sighed. "Go to bed."

"Yes Commander," she said, putting a fist to her chest and bowing her head.

"Maker's breath," he groaned, turning away and shaking his head as she giggled her whole way towards her door. Cullen kept looking back over his shoulder at her, even after she shut the door and headed up to bed he kept looking. She made him feel so at ease, as if around her the world wasn't coming to an end. It was so foolish to think on, especially when the world really  _was_ in peril, but why couldn't he have this too? Why couldn't they save the world together,  _together?_

***

Lysa put the basket down with a slam in front of Ella and Margaret, making the younger girls jump and glare at the woman. "Look there," she said, pointing to the basket. "Now I asked everyone in the kitchens, an' no one took a thing. The larder key was with me the whole time, and when I went in this mornin everything was a mess."

Ella shrugged. "Are you scolding us because someone stole some bread?"

"I'm  _saying_ that no one could have gotten into that larder without my key," Lysa explained, exasperated.

Margaret sighed. "She still thinks we have ghosts in our midst," she said, rolling her eyes at Ella.

Ella sighed. "Lysa, someone clearly got into your larder for a late night snack."

Lysa waggled her finger at them. "Ah, but the lock isn't broken now, is it? How would they have gotten in without a key then!"

Margaret and Ella looked at each other, still skeptical, but they had no answer.

" _And,_ " Lysa went on with a purpose. "I heard some of the men outside talking too, saying they've seen someone all in white roaming the battlements at night. And when they try to get a better look, they vanish in the main hall without a trace."

"Are people  _actually_ looking for this...ghost?" Ella asked.

"That's right, girl," Lysa said. "It's not just me, I'll say that much."

***

"Have you heard the recent rumours, Josie?" Leliana asked, smirking at the ambassador over the war table as Isobel looked up.

"Which are those?" Josephine asked with a smile. "I hear many rumours."

Leliana cast Isobel a glance a moment before looking back at Josephine. "Apparently, Skyhold is host to a ghost or two."

Isobel laughed sarcastically.

"That's ridiculous," Cassandra said. "Superstitious people spreading lies."

Leliana shrugged. "People are starting to say they've seen it."

Cullen scoffed. "Most likely what they've seen is that...What is it again?" he asked, looking at Isobel.

She sighed at him. "His name is Cole. _He_ is a Spirit. But he wouldn't act like a ghost, or haunt anything. He just wants to help. I...suppose the way he moves could be construed as a ghost."

"People know Cole," Josephine said. "I doubt he would start haunting rumours. Besides, you said there were more than one?" she asked, looking at Leliana.

Isobel cast Josephine a glance and slowly started to smirk. "Josephine, are you superstitious?"

Josephine looked a little sad at first, but then she shook her head and waved Isobel's concerns away. "Of course not. Ghosts are not real. Even with the Veil in its weakened state, I don't believe Skyhold would be host to anything unwanted. Someone would surely be able to...to sense it."

Everyone looked at Isobel.

She scoffed. "Really? You look right to the mage?"

"Well it could be demons," Cassandra suggested. "Whether you were a mage or no, the mark would surely alert you would it not?"

"I don't know," Isobel said. Then she shook her head. "Are we really playing with the idea that Skyhold is haunted? There's bound to be a more logical explanation."

"What's logical nowadays?" Cullen mused.

Isobel glared him down but he cracked half a smile at her. "Skyhold does not have ghosts. If you'd like, Commander, you can monitor the situation tonight out in the cold on the battlements."

Leliana giggled and Cullen shook his head. "Let's get back to work," he said, and when everyone bowed their heads back to the war table, he shot Isobel a little playful glance.

***

Isobel screamed and shot up in bed. She threw her limbs this way and that as if fighting off something other than her sheets, and with sweat on her brow and a pounding heart she stared around her room in shock. There was nothing, no one, not a sound...other than the echo of her screech reverberating in the rafters.

She couldn't even remember the nightmare. All it left her with was a lingering sense of impending doom, as if staying in her room meant certain death. She stared around her, waiting for whatever she feared to attack, but nothing happened. The silence went on and on until her nerves couldn't take it, and throwing herself from bed she grabbed her robe and ran. She just ran from her room, down the stairs and into the great hall where her throne sat like a mocking idol.

It wasn't until she shut the door that Isobel realized. A dream. She reacted this way over a dream, literally running from her bed as if the horrible thoughts could still catch her. She stood there, chest heaving, staring into the darkness in her white nightclothes, wondering how anyone could possibly live this life and get any sleep. She dropped her head into her hands and sighed into them, loudly, listening as her agitated voice trailed down the great hall. When she looked back up she rested her head on the door behind her and stared out the windows to the cloudy night. It looked cold.

But she still headed for the door.

The door that didn't lead outside, exactly, but towards Cullen's tower room.

Isobel stopped. "No," she whispered to herself, turning around and heading back towards her bedroom. She shouldn't go looking for him. It wasn't wise. Sooner or later he would catch onto her, realize that none of her actions were the actions of a simple friend, and then where would they be.

But she wanted to see him. Isobel turned again but stopped once more, standing still in the night with a defeated sigh. Her feet were cold, but she was rooted to the spot. She almost wanted to cry.

But she wouldn't. She should go back to bed. Defeated, Isobel was just turning back around yet again when a door she hadn't expected to opened started to creak. Her head snapped towards it, and with her jaw going slack she watched as Cullen appeared, half dressed as he usually was, and closed the door behind him. Isobel spun away, then spun back, then spun again and...What was she  _doing_?!

"Isobel?" Cullen hissed in the distance.

She turned back to him, nonchalant, and gave him a smile through the darkness. He looked at her in amazement, just as shocked to find her as she was to find him. "Can't sleep again," she said, trying to act casual, trying to make it look like she  _hadn't_ been praying for a glimpse of him.

Cullen gave his usual half smile as he approached. "You seem flustered, did I scare you again?"

"No, no, just..." Isobel shrugged. "Thinking about tomorrow." It was relatively true. At the meeting earlier in the day, it was decided at last that Isobel and a team should go to Crestwood. Isobel was reluctant to go, as she was with everything, and tonight she thought vaguely that her bad dream had to do with her distaste of travel.

Cullen gave her a nod. "You should be resting then," he said.

"I was trying," Isobel admitted sadly. Then she gave him a bit of a glare. "And you of all people can't tell  _me_ I need sleep."

He chuckled. "You're more important than I am."

"Don't say that."

Cullen stared at her soft face and blushed slightly in the dim light. He looked away and Isobel took in a shaky breath. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave a little shiver. 

"I had a nightmare tonight," she said as if it were casual conversation.

He looked back at her sadly. "Did you?"

She nodded. "I can't...even remember what it was about, but I just...It just left me feeling depleted." Isobel looked up at him through her lashes, and the look in her eyes was so pained, so cautious, that he almost reached out to touch her arm in comfort. "I woke up screaming," she whispered.

"Isobel," Cullen sighed immediately.

She shook her head. "I've  _never_ woken up like that. Even in the Circle, I had some strange ability to sleep. Even if it took me a while to fall into a doze, I'd still do it. I'd wake up tired maybe, but I would sleep. But now I'm-I'm afraid. I feel shaky and every time I think about having to leave tomorrow I get nerves in my gut twisting around and around." She took in a shaking breath and looked away, down at her feet, before staring back up into his pitying eyes. "I don't like travel."

Cullen tilted his head. "Why not?"

"I'm not used to it," she shrugged. "You would think I would want to get out of stone walls whenever I can, but the outside  _scares_ me. Isn't that sad? Isn't that awful?"

"It's understandable," he consoled.

"Is it though?" Isobel asked bitterly. "I should want to be free. I should want to be outside as much as I can be, but I hate it. I feel so exposed. I actually feel safer in isolation."

Cullen sighed and looked right at her. "I know what you mean."

She blinked up at him, and then she slowly took in the meaning of his words and her face contorted into complete misery. "Is this what it's like for you?" she asked.

He didn't really want to tell her, but he gave a slow nod all the same. "Sometimes I don't even need to be asleep."

"Fuck," she sighed, and this time her cursing only made him ever so slightly smile. She looked so broken down here. For the first time he saw her as a defeated person, needing help for once in probably her entire life. Maybe this was her only way of asking for it. The only way she knew how. "I don't want to go back to sleep," she said before he could say anything.

He looked towards the doorway leading out into the night. He didn't want to sleep either. "Come walk with me then," he said.

Isobel looked up at him. Surely he couldn't have just  _asked_ her to spend time with him. Every night so far they'd happened to come across one another, and even though that was the case here, it was the first time he'd asked. She felt the tension in her body melt away. "Where?" she asked.

"It's not too cold out," he told her with a gentle smile. "And the sky is clear. Perhaps I can find more constellations for you."

A slow smile spread over Isobel's lips. "You would...do that for me," she said. "Shouldn't you try and sleep?"

"I could try," he said. "But if it's all the same to you, I would rather walk."

Isobel smiled a little wider and she let him lead the way out into the night, where the stone was still cold on her stockinged feet, but the company was warm.

As they paced across the battlements, avoiding guards here and there and passing the time with idle chit chat, a pair of eyes watched from the tower high above them. With a robe thrown over her own shoulders, Leliana chuckled as she watched the two  _white cloaked bodies_ trail across the walls. Shaking her head, she sighed to herself. "Well Josie," she said, "you can sleep at ease now. We've no ghosts here but them."


	10. Game and Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobel was starting to get a little haggard. She did her best to keep her spirits up in any way she could, but with so much back and forth and so little relaxation, it was starting to weigh her down. With a few days to unwind after a long trip, it was nice to see others having a bit of fun. Maybe this was her chance to join in.
> 
> (Isobel and Cullen play chess and learn more about each other)

Once again, Skyhold boasted another clear day. The weather was cooler than it had been of late, but the sun was out and birds sang in the trees. After such a long time away, one of the longest yet, Isobel was actually glad to be back. She felt untouchable here, safe and secure, and more in charge than she felt out in the field. Having just got back late last night, she expected to be exhausted, but when the sun came up her eyes opened with a well-rested ease.

The sound of hammering and repairing echoed through the main hall, but as did gossip and giggles. The people made the Inquisition for Isobel. She'd never exactly been a perfect people person, though friendly enough, and at the Circle you learned to keep away from whispers and gossip. Here, however, people seemed eager to share their tales with her. Isobel relished any sight of joy she could find, and as she meandered out towards the small garden she could hear the sound of hearty laughter.

Under the little pavilion in the distance, Isobel spotted an interesting sight, one that both made her smile and made her nervous. Cullen and Dorian sat laughing rather casually, playing chess as the awning above them cast little sunny patterns all around. As she stared, she felt her heartbeat start up faster than she liked. She hadn't seen Cullen in days, and when she'd gotten back last night the only person to greet her was Josephine. Not that Isobel had expected Cullen. Though it would have been...She wondered how he would react to her. All their late night meetings had left her with this little twinkle in her eye, a blossom of hope that maybe he...

Dorian caught her eye over Cullen's head and she stared at him in shock. He smirked at her and gave her a pleasant wink before Cullen looked back up from the board. With a subtle gesture, Dorian motioned for Isobel to come over. She gulped, but started walking at a glacial pace.

She could do this, surely. Why did she have to change now, just because she felt a certain feeling? Isobel didn't like the idea that something so simple had the power to completely alter her mind and make her nervous, agitated, and self conscious. But she was. 

Pasting a little smile on her lips, she walked towards the players steadily just as Cullen countered a move on the board. "Gloat all you want," he said to Dorian. "I have you now."

"Are you sassing me Commander," Dorian said, leaning forward as if issuing a challenge. "I didn't think you were capable."

Isobel walked up the few little steps to the chess table and watched, but the moment her presence was noted by Cullen he seemed to jump. The playful look on his face vanished in an instant, and he half rose out of his seat to greet her. "Inquisitor," Cullen said, staring right into her eyes as she approached. The way he looked at her as if she were a vision made her feel a little less nervous and a little more flattered.

"Please, don't get up," she said sweetly.

"Are you leaving?" Dorian asked, gesturing to Cullen's gentlemanly rise. "Does this mean I win?"

Cullen gave Dorian a little glare and sat back down, casting Isobel a soft smile.

"Are you two playing nice?" Isobel chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest and eyeing Dorian for some kind of secret message. 

"I'm always nice," Dorian said, giving her a subtle little wink as Cullen stared at the board. His smile seemed genuine, as if suggesting good signs, but Isobel perhaps was overthinking it. He turned back to the board. "You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory."

"Really?" Cullen asked with a light in his eyes. He made one move and sat back in his chair. "Cause I just won. I feel fine." He grinned with a wicked pride Isobel hadn't seen before, and she had to admit she rather enjoyed it.

Dorian's eyes widened briefly as he scanned the board. With a little grunt, he leaned back. "Don't get smart. There'll be no living with you."

Isobel laughed and Dorian stood. Cullen was smiling to himself like a little boy, reseting the chess pieces and gloating to himself. 

Dorian moved to Isobel's side and they stepped away briefly. "I've made a decision," he whispered to her.

"About?" she asked, though she had to know.

Dorian gave her a little smile and yet another wink. "Get at him." He gave her a little tap on the shoulder before marching down the steps and across the yard. She watched him go as if desperate to yell at him for more help, as if she couldn't believe he just left her here. Isobel slowly looked back to Cullen, who was just finishing resetting the board, and the sight of him gave her an instant glow. With nerves sparkling in her chest, Isobel took a steadying breath and ascended to the table once more.

Cullen gave her a light smile as he got all the pieces reset. "I should get back to my duties as well," he said absently, but a little quirk of his brow seemed to suggest other intentions. "Unless...you'd care for a game."

With an evil little flare, Isobel smirked. "You're on," she said, sitting down and getting comfortable.

"I wanted to apologize for not welcoming you back last night," Cullen said, shifting the board slightly so that it was in the centre of the table. "I'd...actually fallen asleep," he admitted. He sounded so sincere and severe that it made Isobel feel full of guilt as well as pleasure. He was so, painfully sweet sometimes.

"Please," she said. "Don't apologize for sleeping. I didn't expect you to be there, so forget about it."

He smiled at her. "Consider it forgotten then. You...know how to play?" Cullen asked, almost a little afraid of the question.

She tilted her head at him. "Would I have taken on this challenge if I wasn't sure of beating you?"

He chuckled. "Alright. Just making sure you aren't putting your foot in your mouth. You don't have any hobbies, remember?" he jibbed. 

Isobel gave him a wry look and made her first move. "I played a lot when I wasn't reading or fearing for my life." It was true, but Isobel had never exactly been good at chess. She played regularly, yes, but she also regularly lost.

"As a child I played with my sister," Cullen said, making his first move as well. "She'd get this stuck up grin when she won, which was all the time. My brother and I would practice behind her back. Oh the look on her face when I finally won."

Isobel laughed. "My you are vindictive sometimes."

Cullen chuckled low. "I'll admit it was satisfying to see the surprise on her face."

"I didn't know you had siblings," Isobel said gently, casually. 

"Two sisters and a brother," Cullen said. "They moved to South Reach after the blight. I don't write to them as often as I should, but...Don't you have siblings?"

Isobel made her next move and gave a slow nod. "An older brother, and a baby sister I would imagine is no longer a baby. The few and far-between letters I received in Ostwick told me I have another young brother as well."

"That you've never met?" Cullen wondered, making a move and looking at her sadly.

"That I've never met," she sighed. "But...maybe someday."

Cullen gave her a sweet smile. "I suppose now, with the way the world is, you might get to see your family again."

Isobel moved a piece and smiled back at him. "The idea is a romantic one, I'll say that much. I...hope they're alright. I haven't exactly heard much from them, other than when they thought I was in prison."

Cullen laughed, looking at the board. "I think they would have started a war over you, the way that letter went."

Isobel laughed as well. "I doubt my father actually wrote it, but his anger was definitely the one behind it."

"Were you close with your family?" Cullen asked as he shifted a piece, hesitated, then made his decision.

Isobel shrugged. "I think I was too young to know whether or not I hated my mother or father," she said. "I never got to that stage with them. They were just mother and father."

"What about your brother?" Cullen asked, leaning on his knees and looking at her softly.

She shrugged again. "I suppose with Aidan I was just...a little sister. He liked to tease me and chase me, but I chased back."

Cullen smiled. "I can imagine."

Isobel made a move and leaned on the table. "Are you still close with your sister?"

Cullen's smile gave way to a small frown. "It's hard to be. With the Templars and now the Inquisition, I haven't seen them in years." He moved a pawn and pursed his lips. "I wonder if she still plays."

"Maybe someday you should invite her here," Isobel mused gently. "And I'll invite my family. And it can be an odd reuinion of sorts."

Cullen laughed. "My sister would just criticize everything."

"My mother would most likely join in," Isobel smirked.

Cullen smiled up at her, still gently laughing, but his eyes took on that thoughtful expression once again. "It must feel odd to have left it all behind," he mused. "Your entire family, your way of life. And so young."

Isobel nodded vaguely, looking over the board. "I suppose at first it was, but, now I'm so used to not being a Lady. Not being part of a noble household. Besides, if it was strange to me it must have been strange to you. You've lived an oddly similar life to me."

He raised a brow at her. "I suppose I have," he admitted. "Though mine was by choice."

"That doesn't make it less brave," Isobel said softly, moving a piece while staring intently at Cullen's face.

Cullen looked away fast so as not to blush from the heat of her stare. "So the Circle was more or less your family for you whole life?" he assumed.

"No," Isobel said quickly. "There were people there I was close to but it was never a family. It was never home. None of us wanted to be there. I don't think that counts as a home."

"I suppose not," Cullen said, taking one of Isobel's pawns. "I'm sorry." They played back a forth for a moment, getting the board really set up for a challenging match. Isobel wasn't sure whether or not she should cheat, let him win, or play as she usually would. It sounded like he had a talent for chess, which most likely meant she was destined to fail.

As Cullen made his next move, he asked, "Did you leave anyone behind at the Circle? Anyone you miss?"

Isobel looked up from where she'd been staring dreamily. "Well I told you about Abigail," Isobel said with a lingering smile just at the thought. "She's really the only person I connected with there, at least on a close level. I miss her dearly. I hope to see her again someday."

Cullen smiled. "I hope that for you too, then." Isobel looked into his eyes and felt her cheeks flare up with that horrible heat.

Shifting her position, and trying to give herself some bravery, she asked, "What about you? Have you left anyone behind before?"

He shrugged. "Other than my family, no. Not really. I...confessed to you about Fereldan. But that was never meant to be, anyway."

Isobel moved her rook to make a threat on Cullen's queen. "You didn't find anyone special in Kirkwall?"

Their eyes met and he gave her a smile she'd never quite seen before. "Not in Kirkwall."

Isobel's vision wavered, and it felt like her heart skipped multiple beats. The way he looked at her, the words on his lips! Maker's breath, someone shake her! He kept looking at her with some strange glance that made her feel as if they were the only people in the garden. The only people in Skyhold! She gulped and forced herself to look at the board, watching as he slowly moved to take a piece and shift it another way. They were awkwardly silent for a moment as Isobel tried to keep her mind focused on the game, but her mind was fluttering off to those fancies yet again.

She could not have mistaken those words. What they implied. She may be very new to the sensations of attraction, but the tone of his voice and the tilt of his head...The look in his eyes as he practically peered into her soul..! Her heart was racing.

"This may be the longest we've gone without discussing the inquisition or other matters," Cullen said as he casually shifted his King. His tone was easy but his brows said he was worried. When he looked back up from the board he leaned forward just a bit more. "To be honest, I appreciate the distraction."

Isobel smiled tightly. "So do I," she said. Dorian's encouragement rang in her head as she felt Cullen's eyes on her, and with determination she gritted her teeth and took a risk. "We...We should spend more time together," she said, trying to make her voice sound as confident and nonchalant as she possibly could. Whatever fear she felt was instantly gone the moment she saw Cullen's reaction.

"I would like that," he said calmly, locking his eyes to hers and tilting his head in that rakish way of his.

Isobel blinked. "Me too."

"You said that," Cullen almost whispered. They stared at each other for a long time, and there was a shaking in her legs that wouldn't cease. She watched as Cullen gulped. "We should finish our game," he said slowly, pulling away as if pulling back from an uncomfortable moment. She thought there was a hint of pink in his cheeks...

They stayed uncharacteristically silent for the rest of the game, other than the occasional jibe or grunt. 

"I think you've won that," Cullen said after a long thought process.

She grinned. "I cannot have possibly won," she said.

Cullen chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Why's that?"

She looked at him honestly, still grinning like a fool. "I'm horrible at chess." He laughed louder and Isobel giggled along with him. "Did you let me win, Sir Knight?"

Cullen smiled at her, but his eyes were just wicked enough to suggest that he did.

"Cullen!" she scolded.

"I didn't  _let_ you," he admitted. "I just...went a little easy on you."

"I demand a rematch," Isobel said. "I  _real_ one."

He gave a breathy laugh and bowed his head momentarily. "If you want me to challenge you, I think I can manage."

Isobel took a deep, steadying breath but smiled through the nerves in her stomach.

"May I ask," he started slowly, "why you call me that sometimes?"

"What?" Isobel asked, dazed by the softness in his voice and the way he stared at her.

He was blushing. "Sir Knight."

Isobel looked away, a little embarrassed, and fiddled with her fingers under the table. "I...It's a sort of joke. When I was young I read this tale about a Knight, and everything he did was chivalrous. The other characters always just called him 'Sir Knight', so...whenever you do anything... _chivalrous_...it's all I can think."

Cullen gave a breathy little laugh and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away with a proud little smile before meeting her eyes again cautiously. "So it isn't a Templar jibe," he mused.

She smiled. "No," Isobel said softly. "For once, I'm actually being nice to you."

He stared at her. "You've been nice to me for a while now."

Isobel swallowed. Her throat felt dry. "I know," she said.


	11. Cause For Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For nearly a week, Isobel and Cullen had inexplicably seen more of each other. It wasn't really planned, but no matter what they would spot each other as if particularly searching. When Isobel discovers it's Cassandra's birthday soon, she decides a celebration should be in order. And, maybe with a little liquid courage, Isobel may finally be able to come clean to Cullen...
> 
> (The group celebrates Cassandra's birthday, and Isobel confesses to Cullen)

Isobel knew she was somewhat early for the meeting in the War Room, but she anticipated her advisors being there already. She could imagine them being keen, preferring arriving early over late, and as she walked down the hall she was content. Finding the Wardens and figuring out where they'd been and why had been easier than Isobel imagined. Dealing with what came next would be harder. Preparing for an assault took time, they told her, and yet it felt like they had no time at all. With an assassination plot brewing in Orlais as well, Isobel had much to discuss.

As she shoved the big door aside, giving a little grunt as she did so, she peered up only to find Cullen, standing alone in the room and leering over the map. His head snapped up at the noise and his face looked relaxed, until he saw who it was. Isobel and Cullen had been constantly bumping into each other ever since their chat over chess. Neither of them had actually reached out to the other for quality time, but fate seemed to decide that they should never forget each other's presence.

Cullen would be peering down into the courtyard just as Isobel emerged to walk across it. They'd catch each other's eye, wave and smile, then go about their day. Another time, Isobel was simply walking up a flight of stairs only to spy his boots on the landing. Again, they would say a polite hello, maybe comment on recent events, and then be on their way. One of Isobel's favourites was when they caught each other in the halls. Sometimes they would be walking in the same direction and they would get a nice chat in, and other times she would be busy with someone or he would be going somewhere and they would just smile.

People were beginning to notice, naturally, but no one said a word. Isobel and Cullen seemed to be blind to it all, and everyone felt it was best they come to the realization on their own. Varric, particularly, was eager to see how this turned out.

Today, as Isobel came into the War Room and shut the door, something felt different about their chance meeting. When she turned to see him standing up straight to greet her, she knew at last what it was, and why she felt so nervous. This was their first chance encounter where they were completely, utterly, alone.

"I'm surprised you're the only one so keen on being early," Isobel said as she approached the massive table.

He smiled. "Hello to you too. And it seems you're keen as well then."

Isobel gave him a playful shrug. "I just figured I wouldn't keep you all waiting, but..." She waved her arm at the empty room. "Seems we're all by our lonesome."

"Yes, it does," he said softly, and Isobel suddenly felt like there was something in her throat.

She coughed. "Are we looking at the large scale today?" she asked, coming to the table and leaning over it. "Or are they miniscule issues." 

"Both, I would say," Cullen said, leaning the way she did. There was still so much space between them with the war table there, but their heads seemed to want to bend closer together. "Do you see here? We still need to investigate the Red Templar threat. And over here, citizens affected by the Venetori."

Isobel frowned. "Is there a way to move some soldiers into the area? For help and protection?"

Cullen nodded and pointed. "There's a path there."

Isobel squinted. Where his hand gestured too, there was nothing but a mountain range, and Isobel felt that there was no way they could navigate it. "What, the hills? That seems like hostile terrain."

"No," Cullen said, reaching as far as he could. "There, just right...Wait a minute." He stopped trying to point across the table and came around instead to stand quite close to Isobel. He leaned towards the path he had been trying to point out, and as he did his other arm was almost flush against Isobel's. "There. See the path?"

But she was just looking at him. Staring, almost, as if she couldn't believe his presence was real. When he turned to look into her eyes, he looked a little taken aback. "Can you see it?" he asked, but he seemed to care very little about it all of a sudden.

Isobel swallowed and blinked, looking back to the map. "I see," she said, reaching out and snaking a finger along the small little path. But Cullen was still beside her, looking slowly back and forth between the map where her finger lay and the serene expression on her face. If she looked calm, it was deceptive. Her heart was beating hard, and she could hear his breathing. It was strangely intimate, and when she looked up at him he was watching her with strange hooded eyes. His mouth was just slightly parted, and Isobel broke out in a sweat.

Then the door creaked, and Cullen and Isobel jumped away from each other so awkwardly that it set her to fidgeting. He walked around the table to where he usually stood and cleared his throat as the others came in. Isobel peered across at him to find a little bit of terror in his eyes, and she felt the way he looked. What had that feeling been? Isobel felt that now, after having admitted to herself the way she felt, she could place every time he made her feel fluttery. But what did  _he_ feel?

***

As Isobel left the meeting, she walked through the main hall with an odd need to get outside. Skyhold felt stuffy, and the moment Cassandra decided that was all to be done for now, Isobel had practically run out of the room. As she passed by one of the main braziers, Cole appeared and followed her swiftly. She was so used to this by now that she didn't even flinch.

"You are stressed again," he said in his soft voice, following her quick step easily. "Conflicted. Not about war-"

"Cole, please," she said, stopping in the archway of the main doors and turning to him. She was smirking but he looked a little nervous. "For once, I know exactly how I feel. You don't have to tell me."

He fiddled with his fingers. "No one wants me to help them."

She frowned. "You help a great many people, Cole," she said softly.

"No," he denied. "Others. Soldiers and refugees. Sad people. But no one else. They all say they don't want me to read them."

Isobel furrowed her brows a moment before an idea clicked into her mind. "Do you mean the others of my team?"

"Yes."

"Like my advisors?"

"Yes."

Isobel shrugged and gave a little sigh. "You can only win some battles."

"But Cassandra would be happier," Cole said. "She told me not to, but I can read her. She wants it, but doesn't expect it, and that makes her sad. Pride won't let her ask. So proud and strong, so cautious."

Isobel shook her head and held a hand up to stop him. "Hang on, one thing at a time. What is happening with Cassandra?" Cole hesitated. "Please tell me. She won't be mad."

Cole still paused, but at last his gentle expression looked up at her. "It is her birthday soon."

Isobel grinned ear to ear. "Is it now?"

"Yes," Cole nodded. "Doesn't want a fuss, but wants it. Has memories of good and bad, but scared. Too scared to ask."

Isobel came a little closer. "Do you think she would be glad to have a celebration? Maker knows we could use the fun."

Cole shifted his weight and nodded. "She would like it."

With another big smile, Isobel almost chuckled. "Wonderful. Thank you, Cole. You're helping."

He seemed glad at that, and Isobel turned to leave him, hearing the sound of his disappearance behind her.

***

"Sera, I'm wondering if you could...What are you doing?"

Isobel had pushed Sera's door aside, which had been cracked open a bit already, to find her sitting upside down on the little bench by the window. Her hair was hanging down, and her face looked a little red, but she grinned.

"Wha?" she asked, sounding a little constricted as her head dangled. "Takin in a new view, yeah? Gotta change it up. Otherwise it gets borin. What'd'ya need?"

Isobel tilted her head as if trying to look at Sera properly, and Sera laughed. "I was hoping that you might help me with something, seeing as you're such a people person."

"Oh yeah, that's me innit," Sera smirked.

Isobel chuckled. "Well you do know how to coerce. But I would say you have a lively personality."

Sera laughed. "One way of puttin it I guess." Finally she brought her legs down and flipped over herself with a chuckle, landing on her knees before getting up and turning to face Isobel. Her face was still read but her eyes were alert. "So what is it I have to be good with people for, hm?"

"I'm wondering if you know anyone who can play music here," Isobel said casually. "We have the need for a band of sorts."

Sera looked absolutely ecstatic. "What? We having a party, yeah? Bout time we get a bit of fun in here. Can't be all killing demons this and battling armies that, yeah? We have that player downstairs, right, but I'm thinking we scrounge up some others. Make it big."

Isobel smiled. "Exactly what I was hoping for."

"Easy. I know em already," Sera said. "You get to know this place pretty quick if you know how to go abou' it. When do you need this band?"

Isobel thought it through a moment. "Tonight."

"Wha, tonight?" Sera said, crossing her arms. "You don't give a girl much time do ya?"

"Come on, Sera," Isobel prompted. "I know you can pull it off."

Slowly Sera smiled. "Ah, you're right. I can handle it like that." She snapped her fingers and threw herself down by the window. "What we need a band anyway? What's the cause for celebration?"

Isobel smirked. "Keep it to yourself but...it's Cassandra's birthday."

Sera barked out a laugh. "And you're gonna try and make that sour mug crack a smile? More luck to you then, Inquisitor, you're gonna need it."

***

Isobel got everyone involved. Throughout the morning and early afternoon, she spread the word and got assistance. She'd asked the man in charge of the little tavern if he had enough on reserve for a large group, and when he said he'd have enough but would be out by the end of it, she promised to procure more. She'd set a few people on cleaning up the space, to make it look a little tidier, and she'd told everyone about her plan.

Josephine and Leliana were surprisingly excited, and Isobel got what she expected from Dorian; a sharp laugh but a promise that he'd attend. Varric was thrilled, always anxious to see Cassandra thrown from her high horse, and Iron Bull just wanted a party. Cole promised to let people enjoy themselves and not try and solve issues brought on by drink, and Solas smiled elegantly and said he would make an appearance at least. Blackwall was in, although he sounded more against attending than he was, and Vivienne said she would scrounge up a nice gift for Cassandra.

And then it was time to ask Cullen. Isobel knocked on the heavy wooden door before creaking it aside. She leaned in, bracing herself on the door handle and the archway, finding him standing to greet her from his desk. "You don't have to get up," she said, the childish sensation of secrecy making her alight with energy.

"To what do I owe the honour?" he asked, sitting back down as she instructed.

Isobel stayed leaning as she was. "I'm planning a party."

At first Cullen furrowed his brows, and then they rose as he blinked at her. "A party."

"Yes," Isobel said. "For Cassandra. It's her birthday soon, apparently, and it's going to be a surprise."

He folded his hands together on top of his desk and had an amused expression on his face. "Where is this taking place?"

"The tavern. After dinner."

He chuckled and shook his head at her, as if he couldn't believe she, the great Inquisitor, was busying herself with prep for a birthday party. "I feel like there are more important things to be done," he said weakly.

Isobel shrugged. "Morale is important," she argued. "But...please come." Cullen's amused look turned a little softer at the tone of her sincerity. "It would be nice if you came, that is."

After a brief pause he gave a short nod. "I'll come by for a bit. Of course. Do I...bring anything?"

Isobel laughed. "If you can somehow get a gift in time, go ahead. Most people are simply saying they have no idea what they would give Cassandra." Cullen chuckled. "But just bring yourself. That's all I need." Isobel was closing the door before she realized what she'd said, and for a moment she stood outside with her eyes wide with shock. But no, she was overthinking it surely.

Back inside, sitting at his desk in an odd stunned silence, Cullen was overthinking it as well.

***

"Let's go have a drink," Isobel said, leaning on one of the practice dummies in the dimly lit courtyard. The sun was almost down, and the sky was that odd orange and purple shade of sunset.

Cassandra was cleaning her sword, and she looked up at Isobel, confused. "A drink? Why?" she asked, and Isobel worried Cassandra was catching on.

But she just gave an easy shrug. "Everyone has to blow off some steam sometimes. Could relax you."

"I am relaxed," Cassandra said, but the tension in her shoulders definitely suggested otherwise.

Pushing off the dummy, Isobel came to lean down in front of Cassandra where she sat. "Perhaps I need to blow off some steam."

Cassandra sighed. "Today I am not in the mood," she said, but Isobel saw a twitch in the other woman's eye that suggested a lie. "Any other day and I would indulge you, but today..."

"Is perfect for a drink," Isobel said. "Now, let me just put this down..." She gently grabbed Cassandra's arm and slowly made her put the blade in the grass. Cassandra was rolling her eyes the entire time, but a little smirk threatened her lips. Isobel practically dragged her to the tavern, and the moment she opened the door, the entire crowd rose up with a cheer. 

Cassandra gasped and stepped back, her eyes wide, but at the sounds of everyone cheering her and celebrating her, she actually started to chuckle. "What is this?" she asked, turning to Isobel as she guided her into the room.

"A celebration," Isobel said smiling. She took two drinks being offered to her from one of the little tavern staff, and she handed one to Cassandra. "It is your birthday after all."

Cassandra shook her head but her smile remained, and Isobel clinked her cup against the other woman's and took a sip as the band started up. "I should be angry with you," Cassandra said as they moved deeper into the tavern.

"You can pretend to dislike this if you want," Isobel joked. "But I'll know otherwise."

Isobel had never seen the entire group together before, and it was wonderful! She was shocked to find so many people she'd never imagine getting along, getting along! The band was spectacular, and she thanked Sera over and over again as the elf girl just nodded. She knew how well she'd done. Sitting at a table, Solas, Blackwall, and Vivienne seemed deep in conversation over something serious, but every now and then Isobel would hear a laugh.

Leliana and Josephine had stolen Cassandra for the most part, and they spoke by the window like a gaggle of girls gossiping. Each had a drink in their hands, and smiles on their faces. It was nice to see.

At one end of the bar, Iron Bull chatted up one of the female soldiers, and at the other end sat Cullen and Varric, chatting with surprising ease. Cullen leaned on the bar as Varric sat on a stool, and they seemed to be sharing war stories back and forth. Isobel stared at them from across the room, wishing she could hear them, but revelling in the music. She loved music, but didn't got to hear it enough.

She was so grateful for this moment and so pleased with the outcome, that it suddenly made her heart feel hard. How often would they get these precious relaxing nights? This amount of fun? She didn't want it to end because that would mean seriousness would take over again, and as everyone celebrated she felt alone in a sudden gloom.

She stared across at Cullen as she downed her drink, watching the way he leaned on the bar top and smiled as he spoke. He caught her eye across the room and raised his glass to her sweetly. She raised hers back but her face must have portrayed something like solemnity, because he started to stare at her with concern. Her heart was tense once more, but now it was full of nervousness, and she looked away from him quickly and set her empty cup down. 

No one saw her sneak outside, where soldiers and refugees alike were dancing to the music in the tavern. She exited the little crowd and stared up into the night sky, which only held a few clouds here and there. The cool air felt nice, but the sudden wave of darkness she'd felt refused to leave her. Was it the idea that she might never be this happy again? Or was it the lingering questions she had about her feelings and Cullen?

"Isobel," someone said from behind her, and it took a split second for her to realize who. Cullen reached for her arm gently and almost made her turn to face him. He released her once she did, but his face still bore that concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Isobel said. "Just needed a bit of air," she smiled.

Cullen didn't seem to buy it however. "You looked rather down-trodden," he said. "In that atmosphere, no less."

She chuckled just as he did as the music played behind them. His laughter was contagious to her now, and it drove her mad to see him happy. Mad in the most wonderful sense of the word. 

And that was it. In that moment, almost instantly, she'd decided she'd had enough. It was time to make it known, one way or another, for better or worse, because she couldn't take the way her insides shivered at the sight of him. She was terrified to loose him as a friend, as a companion, but the rewards seemed to outweigh that. With a gulp and a shaky breath, she spoke.

"I thought we could talk, actually. That is, may we talk about something?"

"Of course," he said, shifting his position and standing ready, as if for battle.

Isobel looked around at all the laughing soldiers outside, and listened to the voices from the tavern. "Alone?" she asked.

The sudden look of fear in his face worried and thrilled her. "Alone?" he repeated. Cullen cleared his throat awkwardly. "I mean, of course. We could...walk up to the battlements then. You can see the stars again tonight." He smiled tightly at her but she nodded and hurried off. He was at her side easily, striding across the yard and up the stone steps to the towers. They stayed painfully silent as they went, Isobel constantly tucking her hair behind her ear or fidgeting with her fingers.

Once they reached the top, the wind was a little cooler, but it was refreshing against Isobel's hot cheeks. She looked out over the side and down into the dark hills below, her stomach turning and her chest constricting. She took a deep breath that exhaled shakily.

Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck. "It's a nice night..." he mumbled.

Isobel turned as if in a dream. "What?" she asked. She'd been too deep in her own terror to hear what he'd said. Now that she looked at him, he seemed just as frazzled as she felt. She imagined her secrecy was worrying him. She imagined he was concerned for what she had to say. She imagined he knew what she was going to confess and was thinking of a way to let her down easy. Oh Maker...

"It's...ah..." Cullen attempted, but he closed his eyes tight a moment, as if aiming to clear his head, and asked, "There was something you wished to discuss?"

"I..." But her words died on her tongue. What did she say here? How did she come out with it without sounding completely infatuated or mental. He watched her, waiting patiently, and just the way he tilted his head seemed to force the words out of her throat. Like even her body knew her mind could no longer handle this burden. "Cullen, I care for you, and I don't really...I mean I just..." Isobel sighed and turned away.

But Cullen followed. "What's wrong?" he asked with more sincerity than she would have expected. He wanted her to go on? To explain? She could tell her face looked utterly hopeless, but his eyes were still soft and caring.

She sighed again. "I know you left the Templars. And I know we've been over this again, and again. It seems like we never stop sometimes! But... could you...Do you trust mages? Could you think of me as anything more than that?"

He frowned a moment, as if displeased with her image of him. Her question, her doubt, seemed to bother him, but he finally eased her panic. "I could. I mean I do! I think about you....and what I would say in this situation."

Isobel's entire world seemed to shake and shiver at those words, but they kept walking along the battlements in silence for a moment as she tried to calm her heartbeat. "What's stopping you?" she asked at last, coming to a stand still and leaning her back against the battlements wall.

Cullen sighed and stood before her. "You're the Inquisitor. We're at war. And you...I didn't think it was possible. Not to mention...we haven't exactly seen eye to eye much. It was...odd to think about it. But also very nice. Even with all the issues."

Isobel gave a soft little grin, though it felt like it could overflow her face at any moment. "And yet I'm still here. Confessing this."

Cullen matched her smile, but his lips bore a wicked streak that gave her chills. He moved close to her, almost against her. "So you are," he said in a low tone that seemed to rumble her own chest. He let his hand very cautiously find her fingers. "It seems too much to ask. But I want to."

Cullen leaned so close to Isobel that her back was pressed fully against the stone behind her. She looked up at him, at his face so close to hers, and he tilted his head in that way of his. This time, Isobel knew what that little title meant. With her breath catching in her throat, she gulped and let her lips part softly as his eyes stared at her mouth with a longing she didn't know he'd had. She'd never guessed that as she'd struggled, he'd been keeping it inside as well. But now...at last...

"Commander!"

They jumped, and Cullen pulled back just a fraction at the sound. Isobel dropped her head and gave a sigh, but she was almost laughing. Timing. Timing was amusing to her.

But Cullen...he took a hard breath in through his nose, and Isobel could tell just by the sound that he was absolutely aggravated.

The soldier who had interrupted them walked over with a report in his hand, completely oblivious it seemed. "You wanted a copy of sister Leliana's report."

With an amazing amount of anger in his voice, Cullen turned. "What?" he snapped at the poor man, making Isobel smirk.

"Sister Leliana's report," the soldier said. "You wanted it delivered without delay."

Cullen walked forward and glared at the man as if he was the cause for every hardship in Cullen's life. The poor soldier leaned away from the intensity of it, but his eyes darted back and forth between the Commander before him, and the Inquisitor in the background. He could stick two and two together enough to know that he should run. Quickly.

"Or...to your office," the soldier mumbled, backing away. "Right." He dashed off across the battlements and ducked into the next tower like a dog with its tail between its legs and Isobel chuckled.

"If you need to--"

But she couldn't finish that sentence. With a muffled gasp, Cullen's lips were on hers, pressing hard with a need and a fire that threw Isobel's head into a spin. His lips were the perfect yet odd combination of rough and soft, and his hand came up to the back of her neck to pull her close. HIs other hand he placed on her hip, and Isobel melted into his body as if she was a perfect fit for every curve.

He kissed her with so much passion that her knees went weak, and her eyes stayed closed as if against her will. The release of this, the wait for it...Isobel finally realized how much she had been wanting this. To feel him holding her so intimately. She could feel his strength, feel his care for her, and in that moment she knew that it was never just her. It was never only her feelings causing her to slip over the edge, and every little thing he'd done that threw her off was because  _he_ wanted her too.

She held his waist after a time, and gripped the cloth of his cloak so close that she could feel his ragged breath through his ribs. He at last broke off, letting her finish her earlier gasp of surprise. Isobel raked in air and blinked at him in surprise. "I'm sorry," he said, breathless himself. "That was...um...really nice."

"That," Isobel said, still in a state of shock, "was what I wanted."

"Oh," he said innocently. And then his eyes turned wicked again. "Good." And he bent his head to kiss her once more, holding her so close that it felt like he would never let her go.


	12. Shall We Dance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a fancy night out. Fabulous fashion, wonderful food, extravagant surroundings, and murder plots. It wasn't what Isobel was used to, but then again she wasn't used to much.
> 
> (An expansion of Cullen and Isobel's Orlais dance)

And somehow, to Isobel's extreme surprise, the night went on. The party continued in the background with even more gossip and rumours. The bodies of men who'd given their lives had been removed so quickly that it already seemed to be forgotten. It could have been an act, a show. Orlais did love scandal, but Isobel hadn't believed it. Cassandra had been right; they turn any horrible thing into something minor just for the gossip. Unbelievable.

Isobel slunk past anyone trying to have a word with her and found her way to a balcony. Being outside always helped, she'd discovered, and the moonlight and the gentle silence was relaxing. As relaxed as she could get.

Inside, Cullen dodged this person and that question and everything to do with the past events. He was an expert at avoidance, at least to a certain degree, but as he moved through the crowds and calmed the small amount of panic, he looked for her.

Literally the day after they'd shared a moment on the battlements, work took over. They'd hardly had a chance to talk, to decide, to explain how they felt, and the Inquisition was back on. Standing in the war room, Cullen and Isobel had shared passing glances while discussing business. It had felt almost painful to see her, to know what her lips tasted like, and have to discuss military strategies and secret plots. Now that Cullen had her, all he wanted was simplicity. How much he longed for a normal life now that she was his!

He pushed past a woman with a particularly long gown to see Isobel, out on the terrance, leaning against the railing as if she were exhausted. He imagined she must be, and with a little frown he went out to her.

"There you are," he said, coming to stand beside her slowly. "Everyone's been looking for you." It was true, but he could admit that it was mostly his concern. Cullen leaned on the bannister and matched her stance, but she seemed troubled, and she shifted a little away from him as he came close. "Things have calmed down for the moment," he said, trying to coax our her jokes, her ease. Just the sound of her voice lately had been enough to make him happy.

But she was skittish, something he wasn't used to, and he waited a moment as she stared across the valley. "Are you alright?" he asked, staring at her in hopes she would cast him a glance.

When she did, he tilted his head and gave her a very light smile, which she returned. "I'm just worn out," she sighed. Isobel leaned back on the railing and shook her head. "Tonight has been...very long." 

"For all of us," Cullen agreed. "I'm glad it's over."

Finally, Isobel gave a light chuckle and looked up at him as he straightened. "Glad you're not being asked to dance in a steady stream?"

He gave a breathy laugh and ran his fingers through his curls. "I suppose it is a relief. Never in my wildest imaginings did I foresee myself being popular at an Orlesian Ball."

Isobel smirked. "Really? Look at you!" she joked gently. "You'd be a hit at  _any_ ball."

Cullen could feel himself blush a little bit, but he raised a brow at her wryly and she chuckled before looking away. 

"I know it's foolish," he said, prompting her eyes back to his. "But I was worried for you tonight." He put a hand almost nervously on her shoulder, and to his surprise she reached up to hold it. For a moment they stayed like that, and Cullen simply watched Isobel as she stared absently into the distance. From the party behind them, cheers and laughter rose up every now and then, as if reminding them of where they didn't belong. But the music swelled and a new song began to play, and with a little spark of mischief, Cullen looked from the ball back to Isobel.

"What?" she asked, noticing his eyes darting back and forth.

He looked at her with a little crooked grin. "I may never have another chance like this," he said, standing and moving away from her just subtly. "So I must ask..." Cullen gestured to the ball, which now seemed so far away, before elegantly bowing before her and holding out his hand with a smile. "May I have this dance, my Lady?"

Isobel furrowed her brows at him but she was smiling, much to his relief. "Of course," she said, matching his playfulness and taking his hand. "I thought you didn't dance," she challenged.

Cullen led her to the centre of the balcony and pulled her to him softly, taking her waist in one hand and her fingers in the other. In a low tone, he leaned in close and said, "For you, I'll try."

"Well," Isobel almost whispered back as Cullen began to lead. "We can be poor at it together."

He laughed lightly, but Isobel felt he was no where near as bad as he let on. She'd never done this before, truly, and it felt strange to let herself go to his lead. Her leg would stumble slightly or she would look at her feet, but overall he was quite a good dance partner. Soon enough they moved together easily, but perhaps not gracefully. The music played on, and out under the stars they were in a world of their own. If only for a moment.

"Do you think everyone had a good time?" Isobel asked after a brief silence, her voice mocking and a little bit bitter.

"Shh," Cullen said gently. "Never mind them. Do you really care about their scandalous gossip."

Isobel scoffed. "I have to care," she said, looking down at her feet for one moment. "If they're gossiping about me, Josephine would want me to try and make it positive."

Cullen shook his head at her and stared into her eyes. "People will always talk," he told her, and very swiftly he managed to spin her around before bringing her back into his arms. He was rewarded with the hint of a blush in her cheeks. Cullen pulled her just a little closer until his cheek was almost pressed against the side of her head. "You know," he whispered in her ear as they continued to gently turn. "I was somewhat hoping to see you in one of these extravagant gowns tonight."

She chuckled. "Not a fan of my classic military attire?"

"I'll never say you don't look nice," Cullen said, and Isobel's cheeks definitely flushed.

She smiled into his neck. "I can't deny I was a little excited to dress up as well," she admitted. "Vivienne was determined to dress me. I think she's disappointed."

Cullen pulled back to look at her a moment. "As am I."

"Well at least you look dashing, but...you always do." Isobel looked up at him through her lashes with a little sparkle in her eye, and Cullen smiled. "I'm feeling a bit dizzy," she told him.

"Perhaps we should stop spinning," Cullen agreed.

"We have stopped."

He dropped her hand and placed both of his on her waist in the realization. "Oh," he said.

She gave a little giggle. "I think you're a fine dancer, Commander."

"As long as you think so," he said. Isobel and Cullen stood in the moonlight, still holding each other gently, just looking at each other's faces. "I wish we'd had more time," Cullen finally whispered.

"What do you mean?" Isobel asked, a little worried by those words.

He raised a brow. "I don't often kiss a woman and immediately go back to work."

Isobel laughed. "I doubt you often kiss a woman."

"Stop it," he teased, but he smiled at her all the same. "You know what I mean. It feels like...this is fine, but it seems like it is sudden. I feel some need to discuss."

"Now you're making it like work," Isobel said. She reached up and patted his arm. "I'm as...inexperienced as you, I believe. Perhaps we should just play it by ear?"

He yanked her closer. "I don't want this to be a game," he said longingly.

She gripped the fabric of his jacket. "For once, I take this very seriously." Isobel gave him a little wink, and a smile lit up his eyes.

"As long as we're on the same page there then," he said. "I'm so glad you wanted to talk alone." Cullen bent his head and placed a soft kiss against her lips, treating her skin with such care that it seemed he was worried about breaking her. It was sweet and short, and when they had to return to the fray, they felt much more confident and alive. Moments of good can always help ease hours of bad.


	13. Lyrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrecked and wounded as Isobel was after her time in Orlais, both physically and mentally, she was ready for a few days of rest. She'd seen it all, lived through it all, but nothing could prepare her for the waves of varying emotions one distressing night could cause...
> 
> (Cullen struggles with his lyrium withdrawal, and Isobel sees just how bad it can be)

Isobel threw herself into bed like a rag doll, the sound of crows outside oddly comforting after everything she'd been through. If she never went to another Orlesian ball in her entire life she would die happy. Fighting Red Templar's, Fade Rifts, Demons, and bandits seemed to be a gift from the Maker compared to politics and nobles. Perhaps it was good she no longer bore a noble title. At least not really.

With her hair spilling across her pillow, and her flowing nightgown constricted around her legs, Isobel fell into one of the deepest sleeps she'd ever been in. It was nice to finally, truly rest. She'd been spending far too much time in tents on the road or in guest chambers...not to mention all her sleepless nights mooning over a certain Commander. But Isobel was finally starting to feel like Skyhold was her home. She hadn't really had a home since she was a child. The Circle was never a place of safety to her, and it never felt like where she wanted to be. But every now and then, during her travels, Isobel would find herself aching for Skyhold's comforts.

As she slept and dreamed in ease, someone was banging on her door. Hard and fast and  _loud_. It took too long for Isobel to wake, but when she did she could hear someone calling out to her. "Inquisitor!  _Inquisitor!"_

Isobel leapt up, suddenly awake and full of action. She grabbed her long robe from the divan and pattered down the stairs, which were cool in the night. She threw aside her door to the remarkable image of Cassandra, dressed in a night shirt and trousers, wearing no armour and holstering no weapons. She looked a fright.

"Cassandra!" Isobel said in surprise.

The other woman was out of breath. "Please. You need to follow me."

"What is it?" she asked, pulling her robe around her tighter.

"Commander Cullen," Cassandra said, dropping those words like a stone. Her severity worked, and Isobel took off quickly. She followed Cassandra down stairs and around corners until they pushed their way out onto the battlements. The night was cloudy and cool, but shockingly still. The wind was distant, and as Isobel followed Cassandra the only sound was their fast breath and feet on the stone. 

Isobel had been to Cullen's study often, just recently it felt, but never at night. She'd never ventured up into the little loft where he slept, and it wasn't something she'd expected to happen so soon. And definitely not like this. As she and Cassandra got closer to his door, she could already hear him crying out. In pain.

"Nightmares again?" Isobel asked as Cassandra reached for the handle of the door.

She turned over her shoulder with a pained expression. "I believe this could be worse." 

Isobel's entire body ran cold. Cassandra opened the door and the sounds of Cullen's distressed groans became instantly louder. They made Isobel's chest feel tight, and she gritted her teeth. Cassandra mounted the ladder quickly, pulling herself up with an agility Isobel was getting used to seeing. Quickly, with shaking fingers, Isobel followed, hauling up her nightgown as she went.

Up top, Cullen lay in bed, barely covered by a sheet and shirtless. She could see a sheen of sweat covering his skin in the torchlight, and it looked to all the world like he was being tortured. By his bedside stood Solas, who stood a silent vigil in body but a worrying healer in expression. Without a single thought she rushed to Solas's side.

"What is happening?" she demanded.

"He will not let me touch him with magic," Solas explained. He sounded upset, though his voice was its usual cool tone. "He fears it."

"Why does he need magic?" Isobel snapped unconciously. "What's wrong with him?"

Cassandra stepped in. "I believe he told you of his plans to stop taking lyrium.." she said darkly, and Isobel started to panic. She flinched at the sight and sounds of Cullen, who gripped the sheets of his bed and groaned. Even though his eyes were open and alert, she felt like he didn't see her. Cassandra lit more candles around the room as Isobel simply stared in fear. Her heart was racing as the man writhed. She didn't know what to do.

"It's not supposed to be this bad," Isobel said as if trying to lie to herself. "He was confident!"

Cassandra nodded when Isobel turned to her for guidance. "He came to find me tonight," she explained. "He was complaining of pain, and when I brought him back to his room I planned to give him something to sleep. But...something changed."

"What's happening to him?" Isobel asked, turning to Solas quickly as Cullen's breath came quicker.

Solas looked displeased. "He is suffering from withdrawal. He has a high fever, and he is shaking. The few words he's said to me suggests that he is also in considerable pain. I can put him at ease but he fights me, and I fear we must act quickly."

"Or?" Isobel almost shouted.

Solas cast a quick, odd glance at Cassandra before looking back. "Or he could suffer great trauma. His body is already worn out, any longer-"

Isobel spun and made for the door.

"Inquisitor, wait!" Cassandra grabbed Isobel's arm and spun her back around, not letting go. "You cannot leave him."

"I'm getting something to help," Isobel said sternly.

"What?"

"His Lyrium." Another cry of pain from Cullen seemed to punctuate Isobel's decision.

Cassandra was shaking her head. "You cannot. He won't allow it."

"Then I shall force it!" Isobel said, determined. 

"This is not what he would want," argued Cassandra. "We may be able to wait it out and see-"

"If Solas thinks this is bad for him, I agree," Isobel said. "He told me the truth for a reason. I have to help him!"

Cassandra hesitated but remained steadfast. "If we could convince him to let Solas heal him, at least to put him at peace. It would help."

"Cullen is stubborn as a mule!" Isobel stated, but Cassandra interrupted her quickly.

"You can convince him."

Isobel blinked almost absently. "Why do you think I could do anything for--"

"We do not have time to argue," Cassandra said at another shout from Cullen. He was groaning and curling in on himself as if someone had stabbed him in the stomach. Isobel had to admit it hurt to look at him, both because of his suffering and the second-hand embarrassment she could feel for him. "Either we let him suffer, or we try what we can."

"Or I get the Lyrium," Isobel said.

Cassandra let her go, and her eyes were soft. "Would you do that to him now?"

No. No she wouldn't. Isobel wondered vaguely how much Cullen had truly been suffering. Through it all, as long as she'd known him in fact, she'd never seen this. Even his nightmares were nothing in comparison to this, and as she watched him he looked incredibly ill. And pale. And it scared her. In fact, Isobel felt terrified. She knew, deep down in her heart, that if he died...

Cassandra could see the choice in Isobel's face, and she grabbed her arm once more and propelled her back to Cullen, who was trying to take deep breaths.

"Do what you can," Soals said, stepping back. Isobel saw it as a bad sign that even the unshakable elf was nervous. "Anything."

Isobel nodded and sat on the edge of Cullen's bed, which seemed to alert him. He gave a gasp and turned towards her, his arms flailing out as if he was warding someone off. She imagined he thought she was Solas, for when his eyes met hers he calmed himself.

Cassandra and Solas stood in the background as Isobel stared down at him. "Shh, shh," she whispered, grabbing his wrists and setting his arms down to the bed.

"I-Isobel," Cullen said softly, sparking a curious look between Cassandra and Solas. "I...I must..."

"You must nothing," Isobel said, trying to keep her voice soft. "Look at you," she said with a light wry smile. "Toughing it out. Didn't I say it would be dangerous?"

He somehow managed a choked laugh, but he winced and groaned and Isobel frowned. Reaching forward, she put her hand on his forehead which was incredibly hot. He gave a little sigh. "Your hands...they're cold."

"Good," Isobel said.

"I'm sorry," he said stiffly, keeping his eyes on hers and still gripping the bed sheets with his hands. "Forgive me. Maybe...I should have never told you..."

"Always tell me everything about everything," Isobel said, making him smile again for a brief moment. He was shaking like a leaf in a breeze, and Isobel couldn't tell if he was hot or cold. She'd nursed a few people before, but it was always with magic. It was always easy. "Cullen," she said softly. "You have a choice. Either you let Solas help you, or you let me give you Lyrium."

"No!" he said through his teeth, his voice suddenly so loud that it made everyone jump. His hand moved to her leg and grabbed at her robe in desperation. Cassandra and Solas shared an interested look at the movement. "Please," he begged.

"Then let Solas help you," Isobel said sternly, as if to a child. "You have to be put to some kind of ease. This struggle, the pain, it cannot do you any good."

He gulped. "I'm almost...through it..."

"That may be," she said with a little nod. "But I will not watch you suffer. And I will _not_ let this be the death of you."

Cullen looked at her for a long moment, still shaking and still grabbing her clothes, but his dry lips finally opened. "The magic...lyrium..."

Isobel understood and shook her head at him. "It doesn't work that way," she said. "You won't be tainted. And you've little to no powers left to effect. Solas will only help you rest. And then it will pass, and everything will be as it was. Hm? Think you can handle some peace and quiet?"

Cullen gulped and didn't give her the satisfying smile she was hoping for. She took her hand from his sweaty head and placed it unawares on his arm.

"Cullen," she said. "I promise. You will get through it. You will be free of it."

He gave a little choked sound from the back of his throat and closed his eyes. "Alright," he said breathlessly, and in an instant Solas's hands were on him. A warm, green glow blossomed around Cullen's body as he gasped, and slowly his tight hand on Isobel's gown relaxed. His body became less tense, and his breathing slowed to that of a peaceful sleep. His eyes remained open, if not rather drowsy looking, and soon he was at ease.

When Solas pulled away he seemed satisfied, and even somewhat grateful. Isobel wondered if Cullen's suffering put Solas on as much edge as it had her.

"Thank you, Inquisitor," Cassandra said, coming to stand behind Isobel as she perched on Cullen's bed.

"Can you please get him some water, Cassandra," Isobel requested, taking her hand off Cullen and crossing her fingers in her lap.

Cassandra sighed, but it was a tired, defeated, yet relieved sound. "Yes," she said, and Isobel could hear her bustle off.

"I may be able to craft him something for the pain," Solas said as Isobel watched Cullen staring at her. He seemed dazed and barely aware of who he was looking at. But soon his eyes drifted closed, and his body went blissfully limp. Isobel herself at last let her shoulders relax.

"If you can help him in any way, please do," Isobel said, finally looking up at the other man. "But be discrete. I don't think he'll be happy you were present at all."

"I was nearby when Cassandra appeared worried," he said. "I saw her with Cullen, trying to get him back to his room. It was the least I could do." Isobel nodded before turning her eyes back to the sleeping warrior. He already looked less pale, with a little fever flush to his face. She stared and stared, analyzing every feature and memorizing every freckle. His peach fuzz beard, the bump of his nose, the curve of his lips, the scar running across them...

"Perhaps I was wrong," Solas said gently, a little wryly from behind her. "It seems to be you who is easily attached." She shook her head and stayed silent. What did it matter in this moment? Who cared?

"You should get some sleep yourself," Solas said after his little tease clearly backfired. He watched her watch Cullen. It was intriguing to see the way she looked at the man. "Allow me to watch him until Cassandra returns. You've done enough lately."

"Yes," Isobel said, and a yawn came from her lips as if on queue. She stood and sighed once more, smiling at Solas. "Thank you again," she said before turning. As her bare feet pattered towards the door, she craned her head to look back over her shoulder at the sight. There was Cullen, sleeping peacefully with just the hint of a smile on his lips. And it made Isobel's stomach flip. 

 _Maker,_ she prayed. _Andraste too. Keep him with me._

***

How could it be the morning already? Isobel stared at the sunlight coming through her large windows as if it were unforgivable that it should shine so. She'd struggled greatly with getting back to sleep once she'd slumped her way back to her room. The worry in her stomach knotted up so tight that it almost felt like pain. And what could she have done? Perhaps she could have stayed with him, but now in the aftermath of a frightening night, that sounded unhelpful.

She'd finally managed to doze off after reminding herself that he was resting comfortably now. But it felt like a blink, and when her eyes opened again somehow it was morning.

With a groggy groan, she sat up in bed and stared at the sun outside, which looked well past risen. She dressed as quickly as her tired body could manage, did her hair up tight, and walked down to the main hall.

It was already busy, full of people going about their late morning routines, and Isobel felt a little out of place. She wondered if everyone could see how tired she was, or see the story of the night before behind her casual smile. No one treated her any differently, it seemed, but she felt thrown off. Before she really realized where she was going, she was halfway across the battlement towards Cullen's quarters.

She had to check up on him, even if he didn't want to discuss it.

Isobel knocked on the door and waited for a moment, but when there was no answer she entered...

...Just as a soldier was dropping a report on Cullen's desk. "Oh, Your Worship," the woman said in surprise.

"Don't mind me," Isobel said gently, stepping into Cullen's empty office.

"If you're looking for the Commander," the solider said, turning to face Isobel as she stood in the doorway, "he's gone to speak with Seeker Pentaghast."

Isobel frowned. That immediately boded ill in her mind. "Do you happen to know what about?"

The soldier shook her head and gave a little bow. "I don't, Inquisitor." Isobel gave the other woman a nod and she bustled off out the opposite door, leaving Isobel alone for a moment before she decided to go find Cassandra.

As she walked across the courtyard she said hello here and there, but it was clear she had something pulling on her mind. She imagined everyone assumed she was focused on the tasks at hand, and not on the state of her latest obsession...What else was she to call him but that?

She searched for Cassandra in her usual places, with no luck. She could imagine what she and Cullen were discussing, and it distressed her, but it also made her clever. Naturally they would go somewhere more private than the War Room, his office, or her quarters. And so, as Isobel investigated Cassandra's favourite little alcove--complete with practice dummies--she could hear the sound of low arguing coming from the little tower room. Through the small windows, and the unfortunate gaps in the brick, she could spy the back of Cullen's head.

Isobel walked around the corner and stood at the door, pushing it ajar just enough to spy. Did she feel guilty for spying? Perhaps slightly. But this was important to her as well. And if he'd confessed all this business to her, shouldn't she be present?

Cullen was rubbing his hand across his face as Isobel peered in, and Cassandra was crossing her arms. "You asked for my opinion, and I've given it. Why would you expect it to change?" she asked him sternly as he fidgeted on the spot. He looked better at least, dressed to the nines, but his eyes looked worried and sleepy.

Cullen also seemed quite exasperated. "I expect you to keep your word," he said. "It's relentless! I can't--"

"You give yourself too little credit," Cassandra interrupted.

Cullen sighed and shook his head. "If I'm unable to fulfill the vows I kept, then nothing good has come from this," he said, his tone both angry and depressed. He looked so pained, so troubled, and Isobel frowned. "Would you rather save face than admit--"

But Isobel pushed the door a bit too hard, and it creaked loudly open. With her heart hammering, they turned to catch her in the doorway, and she pretended to have only arrived. Cassandra looked shocked but somewhat unsurprised, and Cullen...Cullen looked mortified.

Isobel walked towards them with purpose, but her face was calm and ready. Open. But as she approached, her eyes couldn't help but fall to Cullen's, and the moment she came to stand by him he slid past her.

"Forgive me," he whispered, casting her a sideways glance as he moved past to the door. Isobel watched him go with an ache in her chest, fighting the desire to chase after him. The sound of the door closing caused her to sigh.

But Cassandra only scoffed. "And people say  _I'm_ stubborn. This is ridiculous."

"When he told me he stopped taking Lyrium," Isobel said with a crease between her brows, "it sounded like he was already through the worst. It seems I was wrong. Still, I respect his decision."

"As do I," Cassandra agreed, actually surprising Isobel by a fraction. "Not that he's willing to listen," she added with a slight roll of her eyes. She gave a little sigh and Isobel shared her defeated emotions. After a moment, Cassandra met her gaze. "Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him."

"What?" Isobel said, a mixture of sadness and outrage affecting her breath.

Cassandra held a hand up to stop Isobel's obvious protests. "I refused. It's not necessary. Besides, it would destroy him. He's come so far."

"Why didn't he come to me?" Isobel asked, unable to help herself.

Cassandra sighed again. "We had an agreement long before you joined us. As a Seeker, I could evaluate the dangers. And he wouldn't want to...risk your dissapointment."

Isobel almost flinched. The idea of him being embarrassed in front of her. As if she wouldn't drop anything and everything for him. As if she didn't care enough to want to see him well. As if this trial would make her think any less of him! It made her even prouder to care for the man!

"Is there any way to change his mind?" Isobel asked, feeling the same sense of exasperation she'd seen creasing Cullen's face. "I don't know who to listen to here."

"If anyone could sway him," Cassandra said, "it would be you. Mages have made their suffering known, but Templars never have."

Isobel nodded. "I admit, even living in the Circle, I never knew this could become such a problem."

Cassandra stared into the small fireplace absently. "They are bound to the Order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash. To prove to himself--and anyone wishing to follow suit--that it's possible."

Isobel looked up at Cassandra with almost a sheepish expression. "So you believe in him then?"

"He  _can_ do this," Cassandra said with determination. "I knew that when we met in Kirkwall." She reached out suddenly and laid a hand on Isobel's shoulder. "Talk to him. Decide if now is the time." Isobel gave a little, almost frightened nod, and Cassandra turned to leave, letting Isobel stew in her own worry.

 ***

Cullen glared. He glared so hard that it was giving him a headache. That or something else was causing the pain in his head. 

He leaned on his desk, tired and sore and stressed beyond belief. He hadn't been this tense in the entirety of the Inquisition. He stared at the little box on his desk as if it were something dangerous; a little poisonous creature that could kill or heal him. And he wasn't sure which. The residual terror and embarrassment from the night before raked his chest and made him angrier and angrier, and in a fit of rage he grabbed the box and threw it across the room.

It crashed against the doorframe, shattering and scattering, and narrowly missing Isobel's head. She gasped and pulled back just in time to avoid splinters to her face.

"Maker's breath!" he exclaimed, trying to stand up a little straighter. "I didn't hear you enter! I..." Cullen sighed and shook his head, feeling like a fool. "Forgive me."

"At least you missed," Isobel said casually. "I'm sure the door had it coming."

He took a steadying breath as he seemed to limp around his desk towards her. "You don't have to--" but his footing seemed to give way, and with a little gasping groan he braced himself on the edge of his desk and almost doubled over. Isobel shot forward, but he held a hand up to stop her. "I never meant for this to interfere," he said, sounding strained.

Isobel came to stand close to him regardless of his waving her away. "Are you going to be alright?" she asked, his well being her sole concern in all this.

"Yes," he said instantly, looking up at her with little confidence. At the sight of her concerned expression he faltered. "I don't know..."

Isobel stepped a little closer. "Are the nightmares still there? Are they worse?" He sighed but didn't answer, and Isobel felt a need to make him talk. "I won't think less of you."

"How could you think any less of me?" he suddenly snapped. "I am already less."

She frowned at him. "Stop that."

"The Fereldan Circle," he suddenly stated, looking at her with a strange look of aggravation. "Taken over by abominations. The Templars--my  _friends_ \--were slaughtered. I told you I was tortured," he went on, pulling away and walking towards the window. "They tried to break my mind and I...How can you be the same person after that?" He kept looking back at her, as if to gage the way she was responding to his ranting, and he seemed antsy. As he spoke he couldn't keep still, and he shuffled back and forth by the window from stress.

"But still I wanted to serve," he said, staring out his window to the valley below. "They sent me to Kirkwall and I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what?" Cullen spat. "Her fear of Mages ended in madness. Kirkwall's circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can't you see why I want nothing to do with that life?"

When he turned to look at her next, he had that horrible conflicted expression on his face of guilt, anger, and sadness. It left Isobel's already breathless lungs feeling tenser. But she moved ever closer to him. "Of course I can," she said. "I--"

"Don't!" Cullen said, as if mad at her easy trust of him. Her constant decision to agree with the things he said and the reasons for his actions. "You should be questioning what I've done."

"Are we not past me questioning your intentions?" Isobel asked, raising a brow but keeping her lips set in a hard line.

He shook his head and walked over to where she now leaned on the corner of his desk, perched delicately. "I thought this would be better," he confessed angrily, bitterly, and Isobel just watched him fume. "That I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won't leave me..."

The way he acted, the way he sounded, worried and frightened Isobel. She didn't like anger, and she didn't like seeing it on someone she originally thought of as gentle. At least to some degree. Cullen sounded out of breath, and he kept rubbing his forehead and clenching his fists. She wanted to soothe him in some way, but she was almost too scared to touch him.

He started to pace back and forth before the bookshelves along the wall. "How many lives depend on our success?" he mused darkly. "I swore myself to this cause!" Isobel finally reached out to him but he moved past her too quick, leaving her distressed hand hanging in the air as he paced, almost oblivious now to where she was in the room.

"I will  _not_ give less to the Inquisition than I gave to the Chantry," he said through clenched teeth. "I should be taking it!" He gripped his hands together tight as he paced, but once he reached the shelves again he lashed out and slammed his gloved hand into the spines there. Isobel jumped and leaned away from him as he stood there, silent and stiff as a stone, staring at the ground. "I should be taking it..." he repeated in a solemn whisper.

Isobel blinked to clear her fear, and realized her palms were sweating and her heart was hammering. He was so distressed. So angry at everything. And oh how she wanted to help. But it scared her. She'd never seen him so emotionally compromised, at least on the negative side. She didn't think less of him, she was just sad. Sad and afraid for the man she was growing to care so much about. This wasn't like him, and it disturbed her greatly.

Slowly, cautiously, Isobel stood off the desk and came over to where he stood. His hand was still pressed into the bookshelf, and his head hung low, but she cautiously touched his arm. "This doesn't have to be about the Inquisition," she said gently, pleased at the way he finally looked up at her. "Is this what you want?"

He furrowed his brows but finally exhaled long and slow. "No," he said, trying to stand up straighter. His hand relaxed, and he dropped his grip on the book case as Isobel put her hands on his shoulders to prop him up a bit more. She leaned closed to him, almost holding him. "But these memories," he said sadly as she tried to perk him up with her touch. "They've always haunted me. If they become worse...if I cannot endure this.."

Isobel put her hands on his chest and he looked at her like a sad little boy, a facial expression she was starting to realize he could portray with a sad beauty. "You can," she told him.

Cullen closed his eyes to her, as if just her support released his panic. He exhaled another long breath. "Alright," he said. Cullen reached up and put his hands on Isobel's arms and just held her there, looking into space and taking controlled breaths. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't mind, Cullen," she soothed. "I want you to talk to me about this."

"No, I mean...my outburst," he said, meeting her eyes with that same sad look. "I could see the way it made you feel. I can only imagine how anger upsets you."

Isobel herself now took a steadying breath, but she pasted a smile on her lips and threw it off. "You did say we each had our burdens to bear," Isobel pointed out, reaching up tentatively and putting her hand against his rough cheek. He managed a little smile for her. "Maybe we can help each other with those a bit more," she suggested.

Cullen seemed to light up just slightly, and the ease that she brought to his face was enough to make all her fear vanish. "I hope so," he said, pulling her just a little closer. He leaned his forehead against hers a moment. "I hope so..."


	14. Crossing Blades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobel had been training hard for the past few days, learning all she could about her new powers of a Knight Enchanter. Naturally, there were still a few things about sword play that she could learn, and leave it to her Commander to offer his services.
> 
> (Cullen helps teach Isobel sword play, and Isobel decides she wants to move their relationship to the next level)

Isobel finally hit the target, and Sera dropped her arms and looked astonished.

"Look at tha," she said in admiration as Isobel lowered the bow with a grin. "See? It's not as hard as everyone makes it out to be."

"Says the woman who was self taught," Isobel said, smirking at Sera who gave her a playful little shrug.

"Some of us just get lucky, right," Sera explained, yanking the arrow out of the target Isobel shot. "Born with it. And don't make an elf joke," she said wryly before Isobel could crack one out. Sera passed her the arrow again. "Aim a bit higher now. You gotta match the wind, yeah?"

As Isobel readied the arrow just as Sera had shown her, Cullen was walking across the yard with a little smirk on his lips. The sight was enough to make him chuckle, but he kept it inside as eyes were everywhere. He came closer as Isobel struggled to get the arrow properly lined up. She didn't see or hear him approaching her, and so he let her go about her business as he crossed his arms and watched her aim.

"Right, little higher now, c'mon," Sera coaxed, coming over and pushing Isobel's elbow up.

She scoffed. "Don't hit me," Isobel said, but she wasn't exactly annoyed.

Sera smirked. "Do it right then, yeah? And I won't hit ya. Right. Now lift a bit. Tha's it. Pull back.  _Slowly!_ You ain't a regular yet."

Isobel did as she was told, and with a surprising amount of control and strength, Cullen watched in interest as she pulled back on the bow. She had surprisingly nice form for being new at this, and when she loosed the arrow it hit the target closer to the centre than he expected.

Sera actually gave a little squeal of pride. "Clean shot, Inquisitor," she said, clapping Isobel on the shoulder. "You've got a mean set of arms."

"I think she has enough weapons for now," Cullen said, coming forward from where he'd been standing and watching.

Isobel spun so suddenly that she had no time to hide the blush in her cheeks. Sera looked between the two love birds with a little knowing smile and tilted her head.

"Spying on my practice?" Isobel asked as Cullen came to stand beside her. He looked only at the target, avoiding Isobel's prying glance.

"What made you eager to learn to shoot?" Cullen mused.

Sera leaned forward before Isobel could interrupt. "Why can't she? Nothin sayin she can't have a bit of fun. Could station her on the ramparts," Sera winked. 

Cullen cast Sera a combined glance of amusement and annoyance, before looking down at Isobel as she leaned on the bow. "I thought you were training with your new...gifts," he said, searching for the words.

"My Spirit Blade?" Isobel said, reaching to her hip where the little hilt rested in its holster. "I have been practicing. I've just always been curious about shooting."

"Yeah," Sera interjected. "So let it alone, Lover Boy." Both Cullen and Isobel cast her a wry look. "Wha?" she responded, as if offended by their distaste. "I calls it as I sees it." With another little wink she took the bow from Isobel and lazily meandered off.

The courtyard bustled as it usually did, and no one paid Isobel and Cullen much attention. They'd been 'together' for long enough now that it was just common to see them walking the grounds or whispering in alcoves. Besides, anyone who ignored the rumours could easily assume they were discussing the approaching assault on Adamant. 

"How is your training going?" Cullen asked, turning to face her directly as she tucked strands of hair behind her ears.

Isobel shrugged. "I suppose alright. I'm not exactly a swordsman," she said, starting to slowly walk back towards the steps to the main hall.

He followed easily, casually, alongside her with a little smile. "It's not the simplest of techniques," Cullen said. "But I suppose you won't be also balancing a shield."

Isobel barked a little laugh. "I'll leave that to Cassandra," she said, but then she looked up to the side of his face. "And you, I suppose."

He met her eyes and gave a very sweet little grin. "And me."

They shared a long, still eye contact by the stairs, and Cullen finally broke the silence with an amused shine to his eyes. "Would you like me to show you some tips?"

Isobel's eyes widened. "Would you really?"

Cullen gave a shrug and rubbed the back of his head. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt for you to see a sword  _properly_ in action."

Isobel frowned at him. "My tutor is gifted at sword play, you know," she argued. "It's why I'm learning from her."

"A real sword could be different," he challenged.

"But it's not a real sword."

"Would you like my help or not?" Cullen asked, stopping in their walk to face her with a little laugh.

She smiled, but as she stared into his face she began to feel a little pit of doubt blossom in her stomach. "Are you sure you're...up to it?"

It didn't take long for Cullen to see what she meant. "I'm fine, Isobel."

"You said you would tell me the truth," Isobel stated. "We have to help each other, remember?"

Cullen sighed in defeat. "A small headache then. But that could be from your incessant nagging."

"Oh yes," she scoffed. "I nag you endlessly. All the few times you ever get to see me."

Tentatively, almost secretively, he reached for her hand. "I wish you were around to nag me constantly," he whispered, taking her breath away for a moment. "But yes," he went on, the serious tone to his voice being subtly replaced with playfullness. "I believe I'm more than well enough to handle you."

Isobel retracted her hand as if outraged. "Why Commander, I take offence to that," she chided.

He laughed. "Well it's how I meant it."

With a little purse of her lips, Isobel gave Cullen a surprisingly playful shove, and he actually stumbled back a bit with a chuckle. She mounted the steps and shook her head at him as he stood watching her leave. "Tomorrow morning!" he called after her. "I'll set up a space in an empty turret!"

She waved him off but smiled, and he stood at the bottom of the stairs for as long as he could see her, grinning. He realized now how bored he got when she went away.

***

Isobel woke early. She was irrationally excited for beating things with a sword, something she'd already been doing, but today it would be different. Today, she imagined, it would be endless fun.

She dressed simply, opting for the gear she'd usually been wearing while training; the soft underthings from her armour, and just a bit of protection. For the weight. She left her staff leaning against the wall, grabbed her belt and holster where the spirit blade hilt resided, and put her hair in a messy braid. She patted down the stairs and opened the door in time to find a note on the floor.

With a little smirk, she picked it up and read;  _The tower nearest my quarters. I've set up a good training space. -C_

Isobel grinned wider and tucked the note into the pouch on her belt. As she made her way out of her quarters and down into the main hall, Skyhold was already starting to wake up and take action. People seemed to give her casual look a bit of a double-take, but she made her way through the halls and out onto the battlements with ease. She made her way to the tower she assumed Cullen had meant, and creaked the door aside.

Within she found a nice, clear area, which was bright with the morning sun. Standing by the window was a practice dummy, and Isobel chuckled low to herself as she walked towards it. With a poke from her finger she made the thing wobble, shaking her head. She would slice this in two!

The door behind her opened and she turned. "Ah," said Cullen. "Good. I didn't think you would show."

Isobel was smiling at first, but her face went slack at the sight of him. He leaned his sword and shield against the wall and stood straight to look at her. He wore his usual dark trousers, and thick boots, but on his torso was a loosely tied and very scant cotton shirt. He looked like something that would have walked right out of Varric's romance tales, and Isobel just stared. His appearance made her feel completely useless. She'd seen him in less clothing than this, and in much more vulnerable situations, but this was different.

She looked him up and down as he walked forward with confidence. "What?" he asked, stopping in front of her.

Isobel blinked and looked away with a wry smile on her lips. Her usual wit was coming to her defence, when inside she felt very, very odd. "That's what you're wearing to train me?"

He looked down at himself. "Is something the matter?"

She faced him and tilted her head to the side. "How is a girl supposed to focus?"

Cullen laughed at her as if she couldn't be serious, but she saw a hint of blush hit his cheeks.

"Besides, what if I cut you?" Isobel went on. "I doubt this offers much protection."

Cullen nodded. "Perhaps not. But don't worry, I'm not concerned."

Isobel frowned. "So little faith in my skill."

He gave a great laugh. "No, not about your skill," Cullen said. "Because you'll only be using this." He walked past her to adjust the practice dummy so it wasn't right at the window, and from behind it he produced her weapon.

Holding it out to her, Isobel raised a brow at him. "A stick," she said.

"It's crafted to look like a sword," Cullen defended. "It's weighted too, here, take it."

Isobel crossed her arms. "I have a sword," she said.

Cullen gave a sigh. "I'm not going to try and train you with something I barely understand. You have a trainer for that."

"Then what are we doing?"

He sighed yet again. "Allow me to show you a few maneuvers that you can either use to your advantage, or acknowledge in those you're fighting. It's all well and good if you can handle your Spirit Blade, but you need to know how a solid warrior works. What a real sword is like." She frowned at him and he shook his head. "A physical one, I mean. You know what I mean."

With a little giggle she took the wooden sword from his hand and balanced it out. It was rather heavy, not as heavy as her own of course, but she agreed with his assessment of her skill level. It would be good to understand sword play from a physical stand point, not magical. She often wondered what it would have been like to be born without an inherent knack for something. To have to train and be taught for years, just to become proficient. Magic was obviously not second nature to a young mage, but it was something you had no choice over. Much like her interest with Sera's bow, Isobel had to admit she was intrigued by Cullen's sword and shield.

He stood before her, her back to the dummy. "Now, take your stance," he began, showing off his own. Without his weapons, it looked a little odd, but he looked strong. And steady.

Isobel stood the way she'd been shown, but did what she could to match his hand gestures. It was different with the wooden sword, she felt.

Cullen eyed her up and down before standing back up straight. "Is that the hand you will fight with?" he asked.

She flinched. "Oh, no, I...suppose this one," Isobel said, swapping hands. "Staff in the other hand." She gave him a little grin and he smirked. "What? It's different when it's a solid sword."

"Or a wooden one," he joked. "Alright, show me what you know." Cullen stood back and gave her some room, and she felt foolish. There was power in her Spirit Blade, and an energy and a real skill that set her alight. She was absolutely new to this world, and she felt embarrassed.

"What, just swing at you?" she asked.

He nodded. "But don't hit me."

With a little smirk Isobel readied herself and swung out. She performed a simple combo move that her instructor (and also Vivienne) had shown her, and it was nice to see Cullen's wide eyed surprise. "That's actually quite good form," he said. "But it's very...free."

Isobel stood up straight. "My Spirit Blade is longer. And lighter. Of course there is more freedom."

"No, I understand that," Cullen said, walking over to her. "But your opponent will not be as open. He may not have the reach you have but he will have better defence." He reached out and started adjusting her body with easy hands, and this time Isobel wasn't thrown off. In fact, she wanted his fingers on her. But it was making her skin heat up.

"So you're teaching me to be the enemy?" Isobel surmised as he pushed her shoulders down and made her squat.

"Precisely," he said, but his brows were furrowed in concentration as he adjusted her like a doll. "There, now, lift your arm up to attack.  _Not_ that far out. Keep it in a bit. Remember, you don't have the reach."

Isobel smiled. "So I'm fighting myself?"

He smiled back at her. "Imagine you're a frightened Templar. I'd had to see you running at me."

"You wouldn't see me coming," Isobel said with a little dark allure to her voice. "That's the point."

He blinked at her, looking a little flushed himself. "Right. Well. You'll have to get closer if you plan on using a blade."

"But I have reach," Isobel chuckled as Cullen forced her to turn and face the dummy, keeping her in the stance he'd put her in. 

Cullen laughed. "Pretend you don't. For now." He gestured at the dummy and moved back a step. "There. Now swing with strength. Follow through, but keep yourself tight. Don't let the enemy get at your underarm as you swing."

"I know," Isobel said, eyeing the dummy and preparing herself as Cullen watched with amusement. Isobel gripped the wooden sword tight in her hand and analyzed her new posture. She did feel tighter, smaller, less of a target. Which she supposed made sense. With her Spirit Blade, she was more on the offensive. But like this? Now she could understand defence.

With a hard and heavy swing, Isobel struck strong and fast at the side of the dummy...and it went down as if it were made of hay. Isobel dropped her stance and leaned on the sword, turning to look at Cullen who simply stared at the downed dummy. "You may have needed something more substantial," Isobel said wryly.

"Hm," Cullen said, crossing his arms a moment and staring at the thing on the floor. After a moments contemplation, he walked away, and Isobel watched as he moved towards the door and picked up his shield and sword.

He slid the shield on his arm and readied the blade.

"Nooooo," Isobel cooed out, backing away as he approached.

"What?" he mused, opening his arms a little. "Is this not more substantial?" Maker, he looked good. Isobel didn't know what it was about this look that made her absolutely ravenous. He looked rugged this way, and there was a flare in his eyes that she never got to see at the war table. She'd never really seen Cullen in battle, though he'd seen her, and here he look...phenomenal.

Isobel licked her dry lips. "I'm not going head to head with you,  _Commander_ ," she said, though the idea was a little interesting she had to admit.

"I won't hurt you," he said as if that was her only objection. "I've excellent control." He swung his blade around masterfully as if to show it off. And it worked. Isobel stared in awe. It was actually quite impressive. It was clear her had quite the gift. If Isobel's magical mastery could be compared to a common skill, Cullen would probably be her match. She would hate to truly go head to head with this Templar Commanding master.

She shook her head to clear those thoughts. "What if I hurt you?"

"Then I bear a bruise for a day or so," he jibbed. "I believe it is a fair fight."

"It's nowhere near a fair fight."

Cullen laughed. "You've had practice," he said, dropping into a battle stance with his sword and shield ready. "I'll go easy on you," he added as she looked far from ready. "Now swing at me."

"No," Isobel said weakly.

"What if I command you to?"

"You can't command me to. I command you."

Cullen raised a brow at her and she shivered a bit. "Do you now?" he asked, cocking his head a bit and staring into her very heart.

With a pounding heart, Isobel cracked, and she swung the wooden sword at his head only to find his shield coming up swiftly to stop her. Her entire arm vibrated as the wood hit the metal and she moved back. He was smirking at her and she shook out her arm a moment before attacking again. 

He was brilliant, moving so swiftly that she couldn't imagine how he did this in armour. Though she knew he did. His blade cut little notches in her sword when they clashed, but mostly he utilized his shield to shrug off her blows. They moved around the room as if in a dance, and Isobel found herself laughing after a while. Her cheer seemed to infect him, and even as he was making her work very hard to shake him, Cullen was smiling himself.

Cullen could admit that she was surprisingly talented for such little training. Naturally for him, it was quite simple to see her attacks coming, but the force behind them was shocking. She wasn't exactly a tiny thing, but she lacked the muscle he would imagine a good swordsman would always need. Then again, he'd seen elves bearing broad axes as if they weighed nothing. He supposed Isobel could just be naturally strong. A life kept cooped up suggested otherwise, but her energy was invigorating. In fact, the way her hair was shaking loose and the little sheen of sweat starting to bead on her forehead...

Isobel swung under his sword, and before he could bring his shield to the side to block her shot, the wooden blade in her hand connected quite hard against his ribs. He groaned, a little winded, and doubled over.

Isobel dropped the wooden sword in her hand and was at his side instantly. "Maker, are you alright?" she breathed, panic in her voice. Her hands were on him instantly, one on his shoulder and the other at his ribs where she'd hit, and when Cullen looked up to say he was alright, they were very close.

Isobel's fear slowly subsided as she stared at Cullen, who seemed to be looking at her as if he couldn't believe she was real. There eyes were locked, their faces blank, and Cullen could hardly even remember where Isobel had hit him. He stood up straight and stared down at her--though she wasn't exactly short--and there was a little spark between them.

Literally. 

Cullen looked down and Isobel clasped her hands together tight. She'd been twitching her fingers over her thumb, and as they'd moved, a little line of purple sparks began to fizzle. "Oh," she said, swallowing hard. "Sorry, that's harmless. Nervous habit." She looked back to him with a little chuckle.

"Are you nervous now?" Cullen asked, his voice low and husky and just...

Isobel gulped again. Had he moved closer? It felt like he had. "I'm..." She hesitated, as if maybe she could find the words if she gave her mind a moment, but instead it allowed her impulses to take over. With one hand she reached up and wrapped her fingers behind Cullen's neck. Yanking him down, she pressed her lips against his so roughly that his eyes widened in surprise.

But only for a moment. It took him very little time to pull her close and press himself as near to her body as he could. Whatever had suddenly come over Isobel was clearly something he'd been ignoring for their entire spar, and with her apparent go ahead he couldn't resist her. Her fingers dug into his blond curls, and Cullen let his sword clatter to the ground. He shook his shield off awkwardly as well, and once everything was free, his hands were on her hips. Isobel kissed him over and over again, as if she'd been dying of thirst and his lips were a fresh river. Eyes closed, they were lost in one another in a way they hadn't had up till this moment. 

For Cullen, it had been a long time since he'd felt this kind of heat in his chest. And even then it was no where near as intense as this. And for Isobel...well, it was the first time she'd ever felt desire. A real one. And for some amazing reason, she wasn't afraid. She didn't feel sick to her stomach and she didn't want to cry. There was no adrenaline telling her to run or fight, just a hungry need in her gut that told her to hold him closer.

She pulled him so tightly against her that it became more like a push, and before either of them realized it she was shoving him against the wall by the door. Cullen had his hands all over her back, exploring the curve of her spine but daring little else. This was more than he'd had in years, and it was overwhelming already, but Isobel just kept kissing him.

Finally Isobel put both hands on the side of his face, giving him one long lingering kiss, before breaking free and staring at him in wonder. She looked almost shocked, as if he'd been the one to grab her first. It took Cullen a moment to open his eyes, but when he saw Isobel's face he somehow couldn't help but give a breathy laugh. He cleared his throat. "You...I um..."

Isobel was panting. "I...that was..."

"Sudden," Cullen said, still holding her waist against his own. In a bit of a panic, and with another little cough, he moved her back slightly, and she looked at him with confusion. She could see a blush in his cheeks and she was suddenly appalled at herself.

It clicked so suddenly that she couldn't keep the look off her face, and Cullen actually raised his hands to ward off what he expected next. "Isobel, it's--"

"I'm so sorry," she immediately said, pulling away and putting a hand to her forehead. "I didn't even...I don't know why I...!"

Cullen subtly pulled his shirt down slightly. "It's alright!" he said over her panicking. "It's fine if you are fine, Isobel, please."

He finally got her to look at him, and at those words she felt it. Suddenly it came back to her, the way she felt stalked in the halls of the tower, or the way she had to travel with someone by her side for years afterwards. It had never gotten so out of hand but it was always in her mind, haunting her, the what ifs...

But this was Cullen, and he was so warm and lovely and kind to her...

"I'm sorry," she breathed, and without a second thought she was out the door and across the battlements, leaving Cullen both worried and gobsmacked. He slapped his hand to his forehead and actually slid down the wall to sit in shock in a ray of morning sunlight. 

 _Well_ , he thought.

***

Cullen had just thrown himself down into bed, tired and still drained from this morning. He hadn't seen Isobel again the rest of the day. There were so many things to be done that it wasn't uncommon for him to not see her, but today he felt like it was on purpose. Understanding her actions and her attitudes hadn't always been easy, and he never expected it to be. In fact, he'd almost fallen for her sporadic behaviours alone, but he knew she had trauma. As did he but not to this degree. For Cullen, the only thing he had to muscle his way around was her magic, which he'd done surprisingly easy. He knew there were still things about the general populace of mages that threw him off, but for Isobel?

All intimacy would be tricky for her, he realized. It would never come to her as easily as it might for others.

Cullen of course had been trained to be a good soldier, and somewhat celibate, but that was training. It was something he was told to do, very loosely, and breaking that wasn't very difficult for him. It was rare, but he could function. Cullen had never taken _those_ vows...

He laid in bed for mere moments, staring sleeplessly at the arched ceiling of his tower room, when the sound of a soft knock came at the door down below. For a moment, he wasn't really sure if he'd heard the noise, and he sat up and listened for a moment before it was repeated. Somehow he knew it was Isobel before he got down the ladder and pulled the door aside. 

Isobel's hair was down, and it made her look wild. It was mostly due to the fact that she always had it done up tight that, when it was loose, she looked fiercer. Her brown eyes seemed to shine just a bit more, even in the darkness, and she had her fingers gripping her big wool coat. She gave him a sheepish smile and he gave one back, standing in his bare feet as he was. "Can we talk?" she asked gently.

"Of course," he said, stepping aside to usher her in. 

But she backed up. "Maybe outside? It's not too cold."

Cullen gave her a little smile. "If you'd like." He ducked back in and pulled on his boots and cloak before shutting the door and walking to where she stood at the wall. He leaned on his elbows beside her. "Does being outside relax or frighten you?" he wondered.

"Relax," she said with a smile. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it but...it's such a sense off freedom. I don't feel restricted in here."

" _Out_ here," Cullen said softly, and she gave a little chuckle and looked down. His brows knit together. "Tell me you're at least alright," he said. "That I didn't upset you."

"No!" she said spinning to face him. "No, you didn't.  _I_ upset me. I'm prone to doing that, you know." She snickered at herself but Cullen just waited. "I hope you weren't embarrassed," she said quietly.

Cullen looked away, out into the night and where the clouds drifted lazily across the mountains. "I was more concerned about it when...well, when you were," he said. 'It' was an odd way of talking about the issue. He did feel a little awkward discussing something so private. He would never admit to her that it was slightly embarrassing, at least when she realized and reacted so...poorly. He could understand, of course, but terror and apologies isn't what a man wants to hear at that moment.

He could see that pain in her face, even as she stared away from him. "I'm...I don't think I need to say it again but I'm still going to. I'm sorry." She looked at him with an almost pleading expression, as if she feared he was angry.

Cullen gave her a smile. "It's alright," he said. Then, after a pause, "You are just very difficult to grasp sometimes. You're never constant."

She sighed. "I know. I'm-"

"Don't apologize for it," Cullen interrupted. "I don't see it as a fault. You will never be boring."

Isobel beamed at him a moment before she started to laugh lightly. "Cullen, you..." She drifted off as a look of pure love swept across her eyes. "You're far better than I ever gave you credit for. I look back now and...I cannot fathom how I hated you."

He laughed and shook his head. "Ah, so you  _did_ hate me."

She gave his arm a playful swat. "Acknowledge my vulnerability here."

Cullen smirked but he slid closer and tentatively put his hand around her ribcage. He could feel her tense slightly, but somehow he knew it was nerves at his fingers and not fear at a touch. "There is a time when you would have truly hated me," he admitted. "There was time I would not have blamed you. But I'm sorry too," he said. "I know this is difficult for you."

"But it's not as difficult as I imagined," Isobel whispered, letting her body slide against his side. "I just...something clicked today. There was a concern in my chest only when I let it concern me. Otherwise, all I wanted was to..."

Cullen could feel his skin heat up. "What did you want?" he asked in a low voice.

He heard Isobel gulp, and then she turned to look up at him. "I want to be with you Cullen."

"You are," he said sweetly.

But Isobel shook her head. "More than this," she admitted, pulling him just a bit closer so they stood chest to chest. "I want to  _be_ with you."

Cullen felt like something was suddenly caught in his lungs, and for a moment he just awkwardly looked at her as she stared at her hands on his chest. He too gulped. "Are you sure?"

Isobel gave a bitter little scoff. "In this world, what can anyone be sure of," she said before meeting his eyes. "But...I do. I mean I am...sure. Not right now," she added quickly, making him smile a bit. "But at some point. I know I want to. I know I want you."

Cullen shivered, whether from those words or the cool air, and he had to take a deep breath. That wasn't something he ever imagined Isobel saying. Well, he would be a liar if he said it wasn't something he'd thought about, but the reality of it was throwing him for a loop.

Isobel chuckled at him and reached for his cheek. "I can see your blush even in the dark, you're so pale."

He laughed nervously as she touched him, but eventually he didn't feel strange to be talking about this. In fact, he felt talking about it might be the best way to start.

Isobel tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Have you ever...I mean is this new to you?"

It took him a moment to realize what she was asking and he raised a brow. "Is this a question you really want answered?"

"Yes."

He pursed his lips. "Then...no. It is not new. But it was long ago, now. And it wasn't like this. It was heated and passionate." Isobel frowned at him and he shook his head. "Not that this isn't. Or wouldn't be. I mean that I...it was just..."

"I understand," Isobel soothed, smirking.

Cullen was afraid to ask, but..."And for you?" he wondered softly. "I don't know if you feel like explaining."

Isobel shook her head, but it was to shake off his concerns. "It was never that far," she said with an odd amount of confidence in the matter. "But it's difficult to describe, and I don't want to but...with you, I know it would be different. I care about you."

He smiled and pulled her into a gentle embrace. Cullen gave the side of her head a soft kiss. "The feeling is absolutely mutual," he said, and for a long time all they did was stand there in the dull moonlight and hold each other. All they could do was support one another in their trials; Isobel knew his, and now he knew hers. Together, he knew, they would work through every hardship, personal or otherwise.


	15. Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS WARNING:
> 
> Adamant had been hell. Quite literally, in Isobel's mind. And...the aftermath was taking a toll on her. Luckily, with the steadfast Cullen at her side, perhaps she can manage to get through her misery and keep strong.
> 
> (Cullen tries to show Isobel the beauty that still exists in the world)

Isobel took a deep breath as she leaned on the war table. Her advisors waited patiently as she contemplated, but at last she looked up and squared her shoulders. "I would like there to be a memorial," she said. "Something. Anything to commemorate what he did for us."

"I think it is a noble idea," Cullen said very softly from across the table. 

"The Wardens will arrange something, you can be sure," Josephine added, "but I can make sure there is something done by the Inquisition in his honour."

Isobel nodded slowly and stared at the table. The advisors were all rather concerned about her melancholy. It was rare that their Inquisitor was so shaken.

"Inquisitor," Cassandra said, leaning towards Isobel as she slowly looked up. "You had to make a choice."

Isobel gave a bitter laugh. "Was it my choice to make?"

"They would have made it for you, if you had declined," Cullen assured. "You did what you had to do."

"All of this is what I had to do," Isobel argued. "And we have lost people, I know, but never by my own..." Isobel sighed. "Never by my own words have I sent someone to their death."

"He gave himself to your order willingly," Josephine said. "Allistair was a brave man, Inquisitor. If given the chance, he would do it again."

"I can attest to this," Leliana put in. "He may have joked, but he never shied away from what must be done. He was stead fast and determined, like any who would follow you. You did not lead him to death."

"Did I not?" Isobel said, but no one answered her bitter question. With another sigh she stood up and rubbed her forehead. "Please make it known that I send my deepest regrets. And...contact any family he may have had. Any at all."

Leliana shifted. "I will write Solona," she said before thinking, and everyone froze for a moment as Isobel looked up.

"What?" she breathed. She cast a glance at Cullen, who merely looked tensely awkward, before looking back at Leliana.

Leliana clearly looked mortified, but she explained all the same. "Allistair he...was with the Hero of Fereldan. They have been together now for years. They were...married."

Isobel began to back away from the table. "I sent him," she mumbled. Everyone stared at her with worry and surprise. "I told him to stay. I could have told Hawke."

"Someone would have stayed, Isobel," Cullen said, reaching a hand out to her retreating form tentatively.

Isobel nodded but she looked devastated. "I...need...Excuse me, please." She turned to leave, and no one stopped her. When the door shut, everyone was still for a moment.

"Maker's breath," Cullen sighed, leaning on the table and dropping his head.

Cassandra uncrossed her arms and gave the other advisors a rather down-trodden look. "I have never seen her so...upset before."

"She doesn't often get like this?" Leliana asked, feeling a little embarrassed and ashamed.

"She makes jokes about everything," Cullen said slowly, stuck in thought. "That's her defence mechanism."

Josephine sighed. "Then what does it say about her now that she is this...troubled." The advisors all looked around at each other with a good amount of concern in their expressions. How long did they expect Isobel to stay as sturdy as she was? In any other circumstance, no matter the problem, they imagined her keeping her humour and sarcasm. But how much could one person really face?

They all seemed to realize that it was not this much. Isobel had had them fooled for a while now.

***

_You have to choose. Choose one of us. Choose who lives, and who dies. Choose!_

_Isobel!_

Isobel woke with a start, jumping in her chair as the sun set through her large windows. She was breathing heavily, and there was a little swelling of tears in her eyes. She looked around wildly for a moment before she realized where she was, and even  _who_ she was. When the terrible fog cleared from her mind, she realized that Cullen was standing by her desk.

He looked a little afraid to touch her, or even to move, and once her breathing returned to something near normal, he gave a little sigh. "I know that feeling well," he said, walking around the desk to kneel down where she sat. She looked down on him as he smiled up at her softly. "You are not to blame."

"Then why do I feel that way?" she asked bitterly. Her voice sounded so defeated that it hurt Cullen to hear it.

"Tough calls hold that name for a reason," Cullen explained. "They are tough. You've never been expected to make those kinds of decisions. And when you have, they've been distant from you. This is the first person that you've known. That you've seen stand for you and fall." Isobel grimaced and Cullen reached out and put a hand on her knee. "I've watched you turn from a force to be reckoned with to one who may need to step back now and then," he said. "No one said this would be easy."

"But people expect it to be," she almost complained. "People expect so much from me, Cullen, and when I fail it...It feels like my chest might cave in."

Cullen let his thumb gently run back and forth on her kneecap as she faced him. "You need to breathe. You've already done so much. And loss is an unfortunate fact of war. I hate to say it, but the fate of the world is above the life of--"

"Don't say that," Isobel said, frowning. Her eyes were shining gently with tears. "Every life matters. Every one. What happened at Haven, what happened with the Circles, with all of it! It all shouldn't happen."

"People die, Isobel," Cullen said as if to a child.

Isobel looked away. "I know," she said sullenly.

With a little sigh, Cullen stood. "There is nothing you can do about any of it now. Living in the past won't help the future."

"I just  _hate_ that my life seems to matter more to others than their own," Isobel said. "I spent my life caring more for others than for myself and it's odd to see it the other way around." When she looked up, Cullen was smirking slightly. "What?" she asked.

"You hate in others what you do yourself," he pointed out. "Allistair was a noble man. He stood for others more than he stood for himself. It was part of his title. Part of his entire life. He did what  _you_ would have done. By your own words."

Isobel blanched, but even as she did, the weight on her chest seemed to oddly lift. In her head, the darkness he kept imagining swallowing her up dissipated just a bit. "I didn't even hear myself when I spoke..." she said, dazed and staring into space. After a moment, she looked up at him. "Solona, she...her and Allistair they were..."

"It's in the past now," Cullen said, holding a hand up to stop her. "You don't need to be so ginger with me on that subject. The things I said to her and the way I..." He sighed. "I am past it. At least past her."

Isobel gave a weak smile. "I just never know how to approach...exes?"

He chuckled. "She is not that."

Isobel looked at him for a moment before her face shifted back to melancholy. She gave a long sigh and leaned forward slowly until her forehead rested on the desk top. Once there, Isobel groaned.

Cullen gave a breathy laugh, even in this situation. He hated to see her defeated, and he was so used to laughing with her. Or at her. It took him too long to realize that this particular motion, and the groan she gave off, was not that of the playful Isobel. It was full of anxiety, guilt, and fatigue.

And Cullen decided this was as good a time as any. He looked out at the setting sun. "Come with me," he said, bending so that he could see the side of her face. "I have something I want to show you."

"No, please, can we just hold up here for a while?" she asked weakly. 

And Cullen was almost completely for that idea. But he wanted to do this now. It might be what she needed. Being away from it all, physically and mentally, might help. "I promise it won't take long. I think you could use the air."

"I don't want to go outside."

" _Geet uuuup,"_ he said with mock annoyance. She stood like a defiant teenager and let him take her hand. Before she could even open her mouth to say it, he was cutting her off. "I don't care who sees."

***

Cullen led her to the stables, ignoring any of the looks people gave them as they passed. He'd told Isobel to grab her coat as they'd left, and without another word he'd held her hand with determination as they walked side by side.

"Is your horse saddled?" he asked as they entered.

"We have to ride there?" Isobel asked. She looked miserable; slouching and red-eyed with dark circles. But Cullen was determined. So determined that he didn't even look for the stable hand. He simply saddled his own noble steed, helped Isobel with hers, and led her to the main gates. Out they rode, nice and casual, across the long bridge, and the setting sun was surprisingly warm on their skin.

"I'm impressed at your riding skills, to be honest," Cullen said as idle chit-chat.

"You're always surprised by my skills," she said absently, looking straight ahead and looking to all the world like a long-time rider.

Cullen smirked. "I suppose it's that noble blood."

That did it. She turned in the saddle to give him an unimpressed look. "Again," she snapped jokingly. "I do not think that just by blood I've some special gift that I can wield over others."

"Well technically," he said wryly, matching her gaze. "You have exactly that."

Isobel frowned at him. "Since when are you the funny one in this relationship?" 

He gave a great big laugh that almost made Isobel smile as well. They rode on, talking gently as they went, with Cullen still desperate to distract or entertain her. He knew that it was almost cruel of him, to try so hard to make her forget the death of someone. Especially when, yes, it was because of her. But if she knew how many people perished due to the actions of one...Or how many people have already perished because of her.

Cullen knew Isobel had killed. He remembered, oddly, the way she looked on the day. He hadn't been with her, but he knew for a fact just by the way she kept drifting off and staring into space when they talked. But Cullen also knew that these people, or that person that day, had been wicked. Isobel acted in self defence. He could not imagine her killing for fun or for sport. He could imagine it wasn't the same as killing demons either.

But Allistair. He was a friend. And though Isobel's hand was not covered in his blood, her conscience absolutely was.

Cullen stopped his horse by a little break in the rocks of a cliff, and Isobel stopped beside him. When he dismounted, she frowned. The snow came up almost past his boots. "Snow," she grumbled.

He came to stand by her as she sat high on her horse. "I promise you'll be pleased," he said, opening his arms to her. "I'll carry you if you wish."

She rolled her eyes and hopped down from the saddle, and as she did, Cullen's hands found her waist and very gracefully brought her to the ground. He held her for a moment with a little smile, and he was rewarded with a streak of red across her nose. "Come," he said, taking her hand and wading through the snow.

It was almost comical to watch Isobel go, and Cullen again felt bad for getting amusement out of her very real suffering. She wasn't really that much shorter than he was, but her legs seemed small and she wasn't use to extreme weather. When he looked back at her he could see the look of annoyance on her face, and when a gentle snow started to drift down on them, she started making little angry sounds.

But Cullen led her through the little rocky canyon and into the clearing. The clearing he'd found a few days ago and knew that he had to bring her here.

"There," Cullen said, letting go of her hand as they entered. His voice echoed slightly, and when Isobel looked up at last he face went slack.

The setting sun was just high enough to cast a beautiful glow into the little space, and the clouds were sparse enough to let sun beams spread through the falling flakes. Here there was no harsh wind, just a gentle snowfall across a wide, untouched stretch of snow. A large and crooked old tree stood in the centre of the canyon, and it's branches reached up towards the light so proudly and defiantly, that even though it would most likely never bloom again, it stood as a proud symbol of what was and could be.

Isobel exhaled something like an odd gasp, and Cullen watched her with a light in his heart. "I thought maybe you'd like to see how snow could be beautiful."

"It's...wonderful," she said, taking a little step forward, now so indifferent to the high snow around her boots. She stared up and up constantly, watching as the flakes came down. One landed on her cheek, and then her nose, and she reached up to catch one on her fingertip. With a child's-eyes, she turned to him. "They really are shaped like that!" she said, holding the flake out to him as if he could see it.

He furrowed his brows just for a moment. "Surely you've seen snow though. Before all this."

She shook her head, but it was a yes and no. "It didn't snow much at Ostwick, oddly. Any snow I saw was usually remainder from ice spells. It's not the same." She looked back up into the sky as the flakes continued to fall. Even when the sun snuck behind a cloud momentarily, the scene was so beautiful.

Isobel smiled lightly at Cullen as he came to stand by her. "Thank you," she said, looking a little embarrassed by her own sincerity.

"I thought it would be a good time to remind you how beautiful life can be," he said, looking at the tree in the distance before looking up into the falling snow. "This is what Allistair fought for," he said as she followed his gaze. "This is what he remembered in that moment. He didn't do it for you or for glory, but for this. For the beauty in the world that he hoped to help restore."

When Cullen looked back at Isobel, she had those tears in her eyes again, only this time he could tell that they were a real threat this time. She bit her lips together and whipped her head away as a little choked sob escaped her lips.

His arms were around her in an instant, pulling her into his shoulder and holding the back of her head gently. The moment she was hidden from his eyes, buried in his body, Isobel let those tears fall. She gripped his cloak as it blew very softly around his side, and she let the sobs come up her throat and shake her body. Cullen could only hold her tightly, cooing into her ear every now and then, but letting her have this moment.

If she needed the reminder of what life could be like, she needed this moment of weakness more. And, away from it all, away from the Inquisition, he was just glad to be able to help _her_. Cullen knew it was hard to get lost in the Inquisitor. She was such a symbol that there were even people who didn't know her name, didn't know what she looked like. But here, in his arms and in this canyon, it was high time she let herself just be Isobel.

And being Isobel, he realized, had been very hard for a very long time.


	16. It's Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From just a few kind words, and a picture of pain in the past, Isobel decided that she was ready. She didn't know how she was going to go about it, or why she was suddenly determined, but...she was ready. She at least wanted to try.
> 
> (Cullen and Isobel take the next step in their relationship. This is a long one.)

Isobel smiled lightly as she watched Hawke get the last of her bags saddled up to her horse. She'd spent the morning with her, saying her goodbyes, giving her thanks, and discussing the events at Adamant. It felt nice to talk to someone about it, especially someone she respected and someone who understood. Hawke, she learned, was very much like her. Minus the wit, Hawke was just as kind hearted and determined as Isobel felt herself to be.

And she was rather disappointed to see Hawke go.

"Where will you go now?" Isobel asked as Hawke tightened the straps on one bag.

Hawke gave a little shrug and smiled softly. "I don't know. There's always somewhere for me to be."

"It must be dangerous though, surely," Isobel said.

"Everything has it's dangers," Hawke said easily. "But there are people who support what I did. Like you. Like other mages." Isobel smiled and Hawke gave her a brilliant grin, like the big sister Isobel had never had. "I'm sure there's somewhere I can help."

"You're so selfless," Isobel said with a little embarrassed chuckle. She felt like a dreamy child meeting their idol. Well...she sort of was.

Hawke gave a chuckle as well. "I've been selfish in the past," she said, and a little dark memory seemed to wash over her. "I let someone very wicked live for my own purposes. And now...I don't even know where he is."

Isobel turned pale and her smile faltered. "Do you mean Anders?"

Hawke gave a sigh. "I do." She stared at Isobel a moment as if trying to decide how much she could really say to the other woman. "I miss him very much sometimes. Not what he was in the end, but the man before. There was so little of that left." She hesitated. "He tried so hard."

"Tried so hard to what?" Isobel asked.

Hawke sighed yet again. "To keep me." Isobel looked down as Hawke looked away, holding the reigns of her great horse and staring into the distance. The weight of the moment proved to be a bit to much for Hawke it seemed, and with a determined set of her jaw she looked back at Isobel with a forced smile. "So. I hear a rumour that you and Commander Cullen are quite close."

Isobel looked up and immediately gave the worst 'trying to hide it' laugh she could have given. "Rumours travel fast it seems," she said. "You haven't exactly been here long."

"It hasn't exactly been a rumour," Hawke smirked. "I didn't spend any time with him here, but I saw enough of him to notice quite the change."

Isobel furrowed her brows. "You knew him?"

"Of course," Hawke said. "He was a templar in Kirkwall while I was there."

"I suppose it is rather obvious that you two would have met," Isobel decided. "Were you friends?" she wondered.

Hawke chuckled. "I don't think I would say friends. We were friendly, at least in the end. He stood with me when it came down to it. I could tell he was an intelligent, strong man. And it's funny, when we first met he was threat....I don't actually know if I should say."

Isobel looked down for a moment. "He's told me about his past. All the things he's done and said that he regrets. I don't hold those things against him."

"You didn't see it," Hawke said, "that's why."

Isobel felt a little seed of sadness start to bloom in her chest. It was strange that Hawke's words didn't make her mad at Cullen or skeptical of him. He had such a good heart, she could see it. And the idea that he was ever so hard and cold and cruel made her far more sad than angry.

"When did you meet?" Isobel asked.

Hawke looked at her and seemed to decide it was safe to discuss. "When I found him he was threatening a Templar recruit with a sword. We'd been looking for blood mages who had infiltrated the Templar ranks. Naturally my first instinct was to tell him to stop, but he turned out to be right. We fought together for the first time that day, actually." She paused and seemed to lose herself in the memory, as if surprised. "And he didn't do anything to me. He saw I was a mage, it was clear, but he left me alone. He could have done all manner of things but he let me go. After all he'd been through, he still had mercy."

"He told you about his past?" Isobel asked in surprised. She didn't think it was something Cullen went around explaining.

"No," Hawke said simply. "But you hear things. What happened in Fereldan during the Blight is no mystery, and Cullen was tied to it pretty tightly. It's why he went to Kirkwall I hear."

Isobel nodded. "He still wanted to serve. Even after it all."

"He's a good man," Hawke said. "Even back then I could tell. But he was young and it was hard. I'd almost say he's too old for you," she said playfully.

Isobel chuckled. "I look younger than I am. And after all this, I'll probably look ancient from the stress."

Hawke smirked. "Well it aged me, I'll tell you that much."

Isobel gave a little, disbelieving chuckle before looking at Hawke through her lashes. "Do you regret anything?" she asked suddenly. "After all you did, and after everything you've been through...Can I ask if you have regrets?"

"Of course you can ask," Hawke said. But she shrugged. "I don't think my answer will suit you however. I can't say I regret anything I did. I regret the effects it had on others, and I'm constantly sorry for the pain, the sadness, the destruction. But I don't regret my stance on any of it. I did all I could."

Isobel clearly took this all to heart. "You wouldn't do things differently if you could?"

Hawke shook her head decidedly. "I took the risks I had to in order to move on, to move ahead. I wish I'd had the chance to think some things through, but sometimes you just have to dive in. With a life like this," she said, gesturing around the expanse of Skyhold, "you never know what will occur."

Isobel smirked. "So take life by the horns?"

Hawke chuckled. "With a Qunari on your side, I would use that phrase cautiously." They shared a laugh for a moment before the silence pushed Hawke to turn and hoist herself up into the saddle with perfect strength and grace. Isobel stood and walked towards Hawke as her eyes seemed to be distant for a moment. She smiled gently down at Isobel. "There's not as much pain in his eyes," she said.

Isobel frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Cullen," Hawke said. "You can still see some of the sadness, I think. But...there's a...softness that I never saw before. I think he owes that to you a bit."

Isobel beamed from the inside out. The idea of being associated with any positive change in Cullen put her high above the clouds. "I...suppose he's a risk I took," Isobel said with a slight blush.

Hawke smiled sweetly. "Love is absolutely a worthy risk."

"Do you still think that?" Isobel had to ask.

With a little bitter-sweet nod, Hawke said, "I still do."

"Travel safe, Hawke," Isobel said after her blush subsided.

"Until we meet again, Inquisitor," Hawke replied, taking up the reigns.

"And," Isobel added, "thank you. For everything."

Hawke gave a little nod, but her face held a little slice of pity as well. "Take care," she said, and Isobel watched her ride proudly off along the great Skyhold bridge. In the setting sun, she thought she could just make out the sight of a barrier around Hawke, protecting her from the world she'd tried to save.

***

Isobel spent at least an hour in her quarters in a dreamy daze. As the sun set through her windows, and the world outside grew a bit colder, she stared into space. She thought of Hawke and all the things she'd done. Everything that she'd managed or tried to accomplish was laid out in Isobel's mind as if it were a challenge. But then...look at what it did to her life. What if Isobel failed in her own mission?

What if she succeeded?

...Anders had succeeded. Isobel couldn't imagine taking such a drastic step. But she also couldn't imagine knowing and loving a man only to watch him decay, watch him turn in front of her eyes. She'd feared that path for Cullen with his decision to stop taking Lyrium, but after every meeting they had she felt more reassured that he was on the mend and not the decline. However, he had once been as lost to her as he could be.

The image Isobel created in her mind of the Cullen she was glad to never know was dark. She couldn't imagine the man she knew now being so violent and cruel. She'd seen him angry, and marvelled at how easy it was to turn his temper, but she could hardly fathom some of the horrible things he might have said in the past, or how horribly he might have treated her.

Unlike Hawke, Isobel felt grateful. Where Hawke's love had dwindled, Isobel's had been blessed. Going from a pure, unnecessary hatred to a complete and utter attraction wasn't something she'd expected after the Circle fell and she was left abandoned. The man she saw on a daily basis, the one who smiled at her slightly across the war table or awkwardly blushed when they flirted, was  _not_ the beast from her nightmares, and it would forever be surprising to her to learn that he once was. 

But that just made her feel unbelievably lucky. And very unwilling to loose any chance with him. Perhaps she was romanticizing his past pain and current kindness a little too much, but all she knew was that whenever he looked at her she felt weak at the knees. She never wanted to lose that.

But she could. Even if she had confidence in his mind and in his strength, she had little confidence in this life. They were at war, essentially. This wasn't exactly the classic romance she would imagine reading about. Unless Varric was the author.

Isobel could die at any time. So could Cullen. She knew everyone, eventually, would come to their end, but with this life they were leading, it was far more possible. And that suddenly terrified her. There was so much she wanted to do and say and _experience_. She didn't think Hawke had been telling her to live every day as if it were her last, but now Isobel almost wondered why she shouldn't. 

And from these thoughts, an idea sparked into her head. A little prick of interest that grew and grew as she addressed it started to cloud her mind. Isobel laid on her bed for yet another long stretch, answering questions she posed to herself, and trying to convince her doubt that everything would be fine. After all, she should take risks. She did! But this was different....She wasn't shy, after all, just easily thrown off. She could manage it surely.

She could have the strength to...

Isobel sighed. How does one start a courtship like this? Was it improper for her to initiate? Could she just ask? She'd never felt so young, so useless, as when it came to romance. She was a competent fighter, a strong leader, and a determined woman. But this? She didn't know what to do with any of this.

It was vulnerability, she realized after a while. That was why. The idea of being so intimate with someone, letting them see her and  _hear_ her at her most open. It was odd to her. She was so well guarded behind her armour of sarcasm and high-heads. When Cullen... _IF_  Cullen broke through that barrier, what would she feel? What would he find?

Isobel already knew she would seem different. She would seem soft. Did she  _want_ to be soft?

But then, had Cullen ever wanted to be cruel? Isobel furrowed her brows as she stared at the arched ceiling above her. If she was concerned about being vulnerable with him, was he concerned about being harsh? They had both had negative experiences with their opposing emotions. The first night they'd talked, really talked, Cullen was almost forced to be open and sensitive. They were emotions she'd never imagined him capable of, but if he could overcome his past to be the caring individual he was now, surely Isobel could overcome hers to be vulnerable again.

She sighed. Regardless of what she felt or what she thought (or any urges she was suddenly experiencing) she wanted to see him. Isobel always wanted to see Cullen, but tonight she felt an even larger need to spend time with him and stay away from the ever darkening thoughts in her mind.

Isobel stood up, almost by rolling off her bed like a log, and went towards the tiny mirror she had on the wall. Vivienne had been determined to dress her up for Orlais, not realizing she would have to look the Military Leader, and because of this Isobel now had a mirror. She looked at herself in it now, tilting her head this way and that, and actually liking what she saw. It wasn't often she was granted a mirror, and when she was she usually hated to see herself. But tonight she liked it. And tonight, she let her hair down.

The night was warmer than she'd expected, although that usual cool Skyhold breeze blew across her face as she walked across the ramparts towards Cullen's quarters. And she wasn't the only one. She watched as two soldiers entered ahead of her, both seeming to be in a rush, and she followed casually behind them. 

Cullen's little office was packed with soldiers and guards, and Isobel could just barely see him through all the bodies. Cullen was giving orders here and handing over papers there, and Isobel leaned on the wall, clasping her hands together with a little smirk as she watched him work. Again, she let her mind get away from her in an odd playfull mood, and she relished the power and strength he exuded. It was all the more alluring to her knowing that, under that armour, he was a gentle giant.

"Rylen's men will monitor the situation," Cullen said as someone passed him yet another report. His desk was littered with papers already, and yet he handled it all with a multi-tasking grace Isobel was sure she didn't have.

"Yes ser," the soldier replied. "We'll begin preparations at once." Yet another body moved across Isobel's line of sight, and she tilted her head to catch a glimpse of Cullen's knit-together eyebrows. It made her smile to see him in his element, oddly. She put a hand over her mouth as if her grin would give her away.

"In the meantime," Cullen went on, "we'll send soldiers to..." His eyes passed over her for a brief moment, and then whipped back as he realized what he'd just seen. With a slight softening of his face, he went on. "To...assist with the war effort." He stared at Isobel for a long moment, and she eventually had to look away slyly as a little smirk threatened his lips.

"That will be all," Cullen said, coming around his desk and still eyeing her as she leaned like a rogue on the wall by the door.

A chorus of "Yes Ser" erupted before soldiers started to file out like a class dismissed. Cullen was almost herding them out, and when the last soldier left, he closed the door and leaned against it, dropping his head with a sigh.

In an instant, Isobel decided to dive right in and take control. She could be in charge, she realized. It didn't have to be so soft and innocent, and she didn't have to be scared or foolish or weak. The awkward situation she imagined in her head was a worst case scenario, and this would only rule her if she let it. She was in charge of her actions. 

"Business as always?" Isobel asked as she watched him in the sudden silence, feeling her throat go a little bit dry.

"There's always something more, isn't there," he complained, still letting his head dangle between his hands like an exhausted soldier. Which Isobel supposed he was.

"Wishing we were someplace else?" she wondered, still watching him with her arms crossed over her chest.

Cullen looked up at her and gave his usual breathy laugh. "I barely found time to get away before," he said sadly. He stood up and turned away from her, walking back towards his cluttered desk. She followed like a little shadow.

"This war won't last forever," he said. "When it started I hadn't considered much beyond our survival." He turned over his shoulder and looked her up and down, seeming to finally acknowledge that she wasn't exactly one of the guys. "But things are different now."

She cocked her head at him, trying to look alluring as she brushed her hair out of her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I find myself wondering what will happen after," he said.

Isobel gave a casual shrug. "I think everyone has moments of that," she said. "Trying to even imagine an 'after' is tricky for me, but it's comforting."

He smiled. "When this is over, I won't want to move on," he told her, almost warning her, but his smile was sweet and gentle. Sincere.

Isobel laughed at him and moved a little closer, trying to act as if it were unintentional. "You won't want to forget about all this mess?" she mused, leaning on her hip with one hand and smirking at him. "Evil powers, dark days, and mysterious villains? Then again I suppose that's sort of your life."

He chuckled and she beamed. "You're sense of humour never ceases to astound me," he said. "But perhaps you're right. I  _will_ want to move on from this nonsense. But," Cullen said, his tone shifting as he lifted a hand to her cheek suddenly. "I won't want to move on from you."

Isobel was loosing control of the situation, she realized. The moment he touched her, even through his glove, she felt that little shaking in her knees. After all this time she hoped she would be used to those bright honey-like eyes of his but it killed her to stare into them. And he locked her gaze to his so easily.

She gulped, and he seemed to frown at that, pulling his hand back and looking away. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I don't know what you...that is if you, ah..." With a little clear of his throat, he moved away, turning to his desk as if he needed to check something suddenly.

It befuddled her that he was still this unsure, that he wasn't quite positive of the way Isobel felt. The way she imagined this going. She supposed it made sense for him to be cautious, with her recent moments of panic and doubt, but doubting that she cared for him? Isobel shook her head at his back and stepped forward. "Cullen," she said, coming around him to push the papers out of his hands. "Do you need to ask?" she wondered, perching on the edge of the desk and looking up at his nervous expression.

He gave a little smile. "I suppose not, I just..." Cullen sighed, reaching to gently put his hand on her hip. "I just worry."

"Don't worry," she said, reaching for his cheek. She rested her hand there gently, then patted his rough skin and made him snicker.

Cautiously it seemed, he reached for her again, but this time his hand caught the locks of her hair. "You have it down tonight," he noted.

Isobel gave a nod. "I thought I would wear it special for you," she said, hoping that maybe, somehow, that was a trigger phrase that would start something. Anything. His proximity to her was particularly intoxicating tonight, and she pegged it down to her previously made decision.

His love-sick concerns shifted almost instantly to his low-voiced neediness. "What's the occasion?" he purred at her, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.

Isobel leaned back a little bit more, trying to lead him closer as if they were tied by an invisible thread. "No occasion," she said. "Just you."

Cullen shifted his weight, and Isobel realized how close his hips were to hers. "You look wilder when it's down," he said. "Free."

She blushed slightly, but managed to smirk up at him with confidence. "Do I look unbridled?" she joked.

Cullen sighed. "Are you trying to drive me mad tonight?" he almost groaned. That sound had Isobel's skin sizzling, and a pleasant little warmth spreading somewhere else.

"I might be," she breathed in response, and his look of playfulness went to shock and excitement. It made her smile. 

"You...might be," he repeated, stepping a little closer to her. "Do elaborate," Cullen almost whispered, letting his hand float towards her hip. Isobel's heart hammered. Maker, he was close. And so warm. And when he lowered his voice it made her shiver inside as if her bones were shaking.

"I imagine you understand," she said as he leaned towards her lips with a little smirk. She was nervous, she was embarrassed, but she was  _dying_ for his hands to be on her. She braced herself on the edge of his desk and felt her wrist bump something. She wasn't fast enough to catch the glass bottle as it dropped to the floor and crashed apart. 

Isobel gasped. "Oops," she said, mortified and apologetic. When she looked back up at Cullen however he was staring at the glass absentmindedly, until this wicked little smile hit his lips. He gave her a little sly look before moving away, watching her watch him, and with a great careless sweep he threw every item on the desk to the floor.

Isobel's eyes widened as he walked back to stand in front of her, his hands coming to her hips almost roughly. Cullen yanked Isobel close, and she gave a slight nervous laugh. He leaned her back, and Isobel instinctively scooted back on the desk. Cullen moved his waist between her legs, and with a very hot blush she leaned further back and watched him practically crawl towards her on the desk.

Each vertebra of her back touched the cool desk slowly, cautiously, as she watched Cullen climb atop her. Her throat was instantly dry, but the eager little grin on his lips burned her up, and she touched his cheek as his hips slid between her legs. She felt the weight of him on her, and she tilted her chin up as he bent and kissed her with a passion that only enraged her own.

Cullen braced himself on the desk above her, kissing her with a wild need that she found she was grateful for. This could have gone another way, she realized, but soon her powers of thought seemed to leave her, and she was lost in Cullen's fast breath and grabby hands.

But as he pressed against her, she broke their kiss and breathed, "Wait."

He pulled back instantly. "Should I stop? I-I'm sorry, I..."

"No," she said, reaching up and shushing him. "Just take off your armour," Isobel said out of breath.

With a wide smile, he did as he was told, throwing off piece after piece as she watched and waited. At last, he was straddling her hips in just his clothes, all armour and weaponry spread across the floor, the Inquisition shrugged off. "Good," she breathed, reaching up and grabbing his shirt front. She pulled his lips back to hers and he gave a soft moan from the back of his throat as his hands encircled her. "Do you want...to stay on...the desk?" she asked between kisses.

"No," he said breathlessly. "I want you in bed," he said, pulling back to stare into her eyes as his fingers tightened on her.

Again she grinned. "Good."

Cullen leapt off the desk with an agility she hadn't expected, and he offered her his hand. She took it gratefully, and came into his arms the moment she was standing. Another desperate kiss from her seemed to throw him off guard, and he actually stumbled slightly. He gave a breathy laugh against her skin as he backed them towards the ladder. "Get up there," he said, giving her one swift, hard kiss before she scrambled up the thing.

She waited for him at the top with some strange giddy sensation. This was such a thrill! Not only for what was happening, and about to happen, but for the fact that for once it wasn't the Inquisition. Isobel didn't feel like it was Commander Cullen and Inquisitor Trevelyan sharing a moment when they could. Tonight they were Cullen and Isobel, passionate and aroused.

And not afraid.

Cullen appeared at the top of the ladder and hoisted himself up with obvious speed. He was smiling at Isobel when he appeared, and he walked towards her with deliberate slowness. It made her giggle like an idiot, but he pulled her to him and just held her against the entirety of his body. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered to her, though he sounded confident in her answer.

She gave a nod and wrapped her hands around his hips, pulling her against him and feeling just how ready  _he_ was. She smiled with a demonish desire. "I am," she said, and in an instant Isobel was kissing him again. She would never get used to the feel of his lips on hers, the slight roughness of his peach fuzz on her chin, and the way she could feel his breath so quickly against her skin.

Cullen pushed her back towards the bed, and when the back of her knees hit the footboard, he gave her a playful push so that she fell on her back with a bounce and a laugh. Like before, Cullen crawled atop her on his knees before leaning down to hover above her face. "You are absolutely beautiful," he said passionately, and Isobel writhed below him.

"Stop," she said jokingly. "I'm already desperate for you."

Cullen smiled, and she could physically feel how those words made his body react. With another groan he bent to kiss her, and Isobel grabbed his hips and pulled them against her own. The feel of him...it was a new feeling she wanted to fully understand. When she yanked him close, he rolled his hips in a way that elicited a gasp from her mouth, one she hadn't called forth of her own free will. Cullen bent to kiss her neck as her head rolled back and she analyzed, memorized, the way he felt against her.

It wasn't horrible. Isobel had been worried for a moment that she would feel horrible and scared, as if memories would take over the moment. But Cullen was gentle, and he was holding her and kissing her with such care that it couldn't be bad. Isobel raised her hips at one moment and felt Cullen's breath hitch as he kissed her neck. His leg even twitched, and Isobel smiled against his shoulder as he lifted his head to kiss her lips again and again.

Her hands moved up his hips with a curious fiddle, and she found her fingers slipping under his shirt to touch his soft back. His skin was smooth but his muscles were stiff, and Isobel wasn't sure if that boasted great strength or great stress. All the same, she let her hands spread out against the warmth of his body, and as she hit his shoulder blades he rolled his hips against hers again and made a shiver coarse down her spine.

In a blink he sat up, his eyes still half veiled with the moment, and he practically ripped the shirt from his back. Cullen was on her again so fast that she'd hardly lost the feel of him, and she now had the overwhelming sense of his fingers sliding under her own top. It was only fair, she figured, but it felt so much more intimate now. His hands were a little calloused, as she expected, but they were big, and when he ran along her side to her ribs she gasped.

"Are you alright?" he whispered in her ear.

Her hands lowered and gripped his backside. "Stop asking," she said, and he laughed into her neck. Cullen slid a hand under her back to feel the curve there, feel the way it arched at this touch, and it made him sigh with pleasure. "Unbutton this thing," Isobel almost hissed, and she brought her own hands to her chest in order to struggle out of her fancy attire.

Cullen started to help her, again sitting up as he straddled her on the bed, looking very focused on the task at hand. These little awkward breaks almost made Isobel chuckle, but they were over before long, and they were at each other again.

When Isobel's top came free, Cullen almost yanked it off her shoulders. From there, it was just a slim piece of cloth to...

Isobel looked at Cullen as he stared, first at her chest--which was yet to be bare--and then into her eyes. She was so flushed, and her hair was an unruly mess of bliss. Her chest heaved still with raking breaths, and he inched a little closer to her on the mattress. In a moment of tenderness, she sat up as well and put her hand on the back of his neck, pressing her forehead to his. Her eyes fluttered closed after she saw his smile, and his arms were around her once more. "This is happening," she breathed.

Cullen gave a little laugh. "Only if you want it to."

"Oh I do," she said, and she lifted her chin to kiss him deeply, letting her tongue tentatively find the tip of his for the first time. His reaction was breathtaking, and a long low groan slid from his throat. As she kissed him, Cullen slid his hands under the heavy straps of her brasier and let it fall off her shoulders. With her free hand, Isobel unhooked this and that so her last bit of coverage fell from her torso. Cullen didn't break the kiss just yet though, and he guided her down to the bed once more.

And then it was skin on skin. The heat and feel of his chest against hers had them both quivering, and again Cullen wrapped a hand under her back and lifted her close. With a little gasp, she hitched one leg over his and felt his hips move in response, driving her mad with want. This feeling was so new to her, but it was so suddenly desperate that she couldn't get enough of his body.

With curious fingers, Isobel let her hands slip subtly past the hem of his trousers to let her fingertips snake across his skin. She found a very solid curve underneath that she decided she quite enjoyed, and when her hands were cupping his backside she gave a little grip. It made him chuckle slightly as he kissed her, and when he pulled back to stare into her eyes she was smirking.

Cullen moved to the side slightly, letting one leg remain between her own, and leaning on his arm. He looked down at her for a moment in silence before bending and kissing her with a very careful softness. Isobel liked his rough, needy kisses too, but this was...heartwarming. And it made her melt to feel the tenderness behind his lips. Distracted as she was, she barely noticed his hand sneaking across her hip, her ribcage, and then her breast. She kept still, and he kept kissing her, and Isobel just let Cullen have run of her. This was something she never imagined herself doing, allowing a man to take control of her. She'd never wanted that again, but...

HIs fingers brushed her skin and made her shiver, and he played softly with her breast and drove her wild. The odd connection between her top half and her lower half surprised her, and she was moaning and pressing against him as he held her. Cullen's hand made it's way back down from her chest as she took in sharp breath after breath. He gave her ample time between kisses to breathe, and as his hand moved his lips trailed down her jawline and to her neck once more. He kissed to her collar bone and just slightly below, as his hand still moved slowly downwards.

And then it happened, and Isobel didn't know how to react. Her head snapped back, and she gave a little gasp of delight, reaching up and gripping Cullen's shoulder. Even through her own trousers she could feel his fingers, and it made her entire body sparkle with the same kind of energy she called forth for magic. With one hand, Isobel gripped the sheets as Cullen used three fingers to make little circles between her legs. He toes tightened and loosened as he continued, slow at first and then a bit faster, all the while kissing her neck and her cheeks and breathing into her ear.

It was overwhelming! Isobel couldn't imagine how this could improve, but she knew there was so much more to this. For a split second, she felt immature and inexperienced. She was new to this, after all, but should she be reacting so heavily? She surely couldn't control it, but did it look ridiculous?

Cullen rolled his hips against Isobel's leg as his hand worked wonders, and Isobel felt herself suddenly break into a hot sweat. When he paused to slide her trousers down a ways, Isobel thought she might have a heart attack, or at least hyperventilate. She hadn't ever breathed this hard, even in battle, and when Cullen's fingers hit her flesh, she moaned louder than she thought she could or should.

But he seemed to love it, and his hands went right back to work. With her eyes shut and her teeth biting her lips, Isobel knew that now Cullen was watching her. His face was still close, and she could feel his hot breath on her skin, but she knew his eyes were on her. It seemed to excite him all the more, and even as he gave  _her_ pleasure, he was giving little moans himself. The feel of his hardness against her hip did the same to her.

Very gently, Cullen let just the tip of his middle finger delve a little deeper, and Isobel gave a short squeak before her whole body melted at his touch. Slowly he worked his finger in and out, and Isobel's back arched at every move as the feeling grew better and better. There was a bit of a pinch, but she was so lost in the alternate bliss that it hardly mattered. She'd been told it would hurt, and she'd been told it would feel wrong at first. But she had been lied to.

Isobel twitched, slowly at first, but then overwhelmingly quick. She could hear her voice making sounds she'd never heard before as if the noises were anothers, and as her entire body grew warm she reached for Cullen's hand. "Stop, stop," she pleaded breathlessly.

He brought his head up from her breasts, where he'd been adding to her sensory overload. His hand stopped, and he moved back slightly. "Are you alright?" he asked, out of breath himself. Cullen seemed surprised when she laughed softly.

"I felt like...as if I might..." She wasn't exactly sure how to explain it, but when her eyes met his he smiled wide and gave a chuckle of his own.

"Really?" he asked, clearly pleased with himself.

She laughed a bit again. "Shut up."

But he chuckled again and pulled himself up a bit to lean over her. She must have looked a mess, but the amount of desire in his eyes hadn't ebbed. "You...don't want to?" he asked.

She gave a little nod. "I do, but...Together." Isobel reached out with her delicate, nervous hands, and gently placed her fingers at the bulge of Cullen's trousers. He gave a little flinch, as if he hadn't expected her to be so bold, and with a little smirk Isobel let her hand slip past his waistband.

Cullen gave a little gasp, his eyes closing just slightly as Isobel leaned up to kiss his strong jaw. She dug her way around awkwardly for a mere moment before her hand encircled his length, tentatively giving a little squeeze, feeling his want. His little, sighing moan made Isobel tingle, and for some reason she decided then and there that she adored his sounds. And she wanted more of them.

Scooting up she started to kiss up his cheek to his lips, where she hungrily let her teeth nibble. She could feel his smile and it infected her own mouth, and very swiftly Cullen was pulling her own bottoms down further and further. She kicked one leg free and pulled him back atop her, releasing him, and suddenly feeling that flesh on flesh feeling again. They both shared a moment of pleasant surprise, and it was as if the slumbering fire suddenly erupted. Just the touch of it...not even the deed...Isobel never felt so desperate for something.

Cullen shifted himself around a bit as Isobel held him close, and his voice was unexpectedly warm against her ear. "Should I..." he breathed, both an unfinished sentence and a question.

Isobel brought her hands up to grip his bare shoulders, lifting her hips up so she brushed against him again. With a little moan, she nodded.

"I'll start slow," he whispered in her ear, and even just that simple phrase uttered in this intimacy was enough to drive her mad. In another instant, she felt him. She felt him slip past whatever remained of her wall, and find the woman hidden deep beneath. Isobel's head tilted back, and she bit her lip. It wasn't a finger, and the tiny prick of pain was a little sharper, but he kept back. She could tell, even through her dizzy mind, that it was a mere fragment of his full force. But he thrusted slowly, back and forth, letting just a small portion of himself enter.

And even so, Cullen's moan was one of pure euphoria. It sent shivers along Isobel's spine, and they mingled with the shivers she was already experiencing from the feel of him. He held her close, but not too tight, and she gripped his back as if she never wanted to let him go. Slowly and surely, Cullen let himself go deeper, and deeper, until Isobel gave out a deep sigh at the sensation of his full length within her.

It was strange, but wonderful, and Cullen kept still a moment as he let her adjust. It felt something like a pressure, but even without moving it made her twitch. She took slow breaths, and he kissed her neck sweetly until her own hips started mimicking his previous movements eagerly. With a low, breathy groan, Cullen followed her movements until she couldn't possibly keep up. He stayed gentle, but quick, and Isobel dug her fingernails into the tough skin on his back without being aware of it. 

She didn't think her head could dig into the pillow anymore than it already was, and her toes clenched and unclenched as they had before with every move he made. Cullen rolled his hips with every little thrust, and each time he did Isobel felt her skin grow hotter and hotter. Her muscles shook, and her body tingled, and her voice was much louder than she wanted it to be. But he just kept moving, letting his hands run across her waist, her hips, and underneath to her backside.

And soon, Isobel felt herself returning to that precipice where she'd stopped him. And Cullen's warm breath against her skin and his steady moans made her think he felt it too. She gulped and tried to say something, anything, but the reactions of her body seemed to be enough for him. He sped up just a fraction, going a little deeper, and Isobel lost control. She felt her back arch and heard her voice saying his name, over and over again and higher in pitch. He whispered her name in her ear like a purr, and she gripped him tight.

With a cry out, Isobel clenched her legs around Cullen and writhed beneath him. His own reaction was to push just a little harder, and he felt himself immediately burst with her enthusiasm. Isobel dug her nails in deep and tried to muffle her moans of pleasure as shakes and shivers ran through her body like waves on a shore. Like electricity! She'd zapped herself once or twice with magic by accident, and she could remember the jolting sensation that took time to pass. This was  _far_ more intense, and much more pleasurable, but she quaked over and over, even after she thought it was done. With one last, stiff thrust, Cullen groaned loudly into her hair and gripped her hip with one hand so tightly she thought it would bruise.

But she didn't care. She knew what it meant, and she had some strange form of pride in her chest at the idea she pleased him too. For a while they laid there, breathing hard, little remains of their earlier moans escaping their lips every now and then. It wasn't until Isobel started to chuckle softly that Cullen pulled back and looked down at her. And Isobel just kept smiling, like an idiot, with her little foolish giggle getting louder and stronger. At last, a broad smile infected Cullen's lips, and he too started to chuckle in that low tone of his until he rested his forehead against hers. Isobel tilted her chin up to kiss him deeply, and their smiles dwindled into the relaxed expression of tired bliss against each other's skin.

***

Isobel jumped at the sound of a door opening, her eyes going wide and her heart beating fast. The morning sunlight pooled in through the small windows above her, and down below the little loft someone moved about. 

"Commander, the Inquisitor is--" a voice said in a rush. Isobel presumed it was another one of Cullen's scouts, soldiers, troops...and she tilted her head up. There was Cullen. Asleep like a baby, breathing peacefully, completely oblivious to the person calling his name down below. Isobel watched him sleep and listened, both to his breath and the sigh of the man downstairs.

"Maker," breathed the soldier below, and with a grimace Isobel recalled the state of Cullen's office. His armour thrown about the place, the contents of his desk dashed to the floor. It most likely looked problematic to new eyes. The sound of papers being dropped on Cullen's desk sounded in the space, and the soldier down below eventually left, but clearly he'd had news about Isobel.

The sun looked higher in the sky than Isobel had previously thought. People were most likely starting to wonder where she was.

Isobel untangled herself from the crook of Cullen's arm and sat up, covering her body with her arm and the sheet, cracking her neck and breathing slow. She felt a little odd, perhaps a little sore, but strangely relaxed. She craned her head over her shoulder to look down at Cullen as he lay there, naked as a baby, sleeping like one. It made her smile just to see him so calm and quiet, as if maybe their lives were normal in any measure. 

But they weren't. And with a little sigh Isobel stood and gathered her clothing. She didn't want to leave him like this, and in all honesty he should most likely get up himself. But Isobel let him rest as she dressed herself. She always carried pins in her pocket, and once she had her top and trousers back on she did her hair up in her usual bun. 

Coming back to the bed, Isobel sat lightly on the edge and stared down at Cullen once again. There had been a little smile on his lips that now looked slightly faded, and as Isobel started to get her boots back on, she heard it. Little murmured frets started leaving Cullen's lips, and he twitched this way and that way. With a frown, Isobel leaned over him as he struggled in sleep, and she was just reaching out when he jumped awake, making Isobel jump as well.

His eyes stared out in terror and some unknown entity, but the moment Cullen saw Isobel, everything cooled. His breathing evened out, and he sighed, laying back in bed with a hand over his face.

"Bad dreams?" Isobel asked with concern. She'd actually been hoping the night they'd shared had managed to give Cullen a sweet relief. 

Cullen sighed. "They always are," he said darkly. "Without Lyrium, they've gotten worse." He moved his hand away from his eyes and looked at the fretful Isobel. Her brows were furrowed and there was a clear pout to her full lips that he didn't like. If she disliked the truth of his nightmares, he was glad she'd never seen the memories invade his waking hours...and they did.

He sat up and reached for her cheek. "I didn't mean to worry you," Cullen said softly, and she managed a small smile for him as she reached up and held his hand. Cullen tilted his head. "Why are you dressed?" he asked.

"Oh," Isobel began. "One of your soldiers came in a moment ago. He seemed to be asking about my whereabouts, only to find you were missing as well. And your office is a mess."

"Ah," Cullen said, almost groaning, but he smirked at her. "I...suppose duty calls," he said after they shared a long glance.

Isobel sighed and nodded, looking down below at the door to the outside, the door to the Inquisition. She looked back to him. "Bad dreams aside," she smiled, "was it a good morning?"

Cullen gave a breathy little chuckle, and he looked down for a moment as if embarrassed. It made Isobel's heart light up. When he looked back, she was smiling wide. "It's perfect," he said. Isobel leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, reaching back to run her hands through his hair as he put a hand to her cheek once more. "You are..." he breathed before gulping. "I have never felt anything like this."

Isobel gave a little chuckle. "Then I've succeeded," she joked.

He laughed as she pulled away to smile at him. "You have succeeded ten-fold," he said with a smile. Cullen stared at her for a moment before she couldn't resist his lips. If it had been hard to keep away from him before, to keep her hands from his body, it would be much more difficult now. She kissed him tenderly, gently, and his sharp intake of breath made her feel as if she could heal his every pain, like a balm for the soul.

And Isobel wondered if he felt the same way about her.

 


	17. A Sweet Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Just a quickie. Isobel catches Cullen doing something she didn't expect.)

Leliana apparently had already handed her report off to Cullen. And not Isobel. 

Isobel gave a sigh and wondered why this hadn't been brought to her first. She was, after all, the one who ordered the scouting mission to take place. Why did Cullen get the report first?

She frowned to herself as she walked across the battlements to his door. He most likely got it because  _he_ was more in charge than her. Even after all she'd done and all the requirements and burdens placed on her, Isobel felt like the little child to her advisors. Sure she could tell them what to do, but really  _they_ were the ones in charge. Long before any of this got so carried away, Isobel would have pegged Cassandra as the real leader. But no, now it was her.

And she should get reports first!

As Isobel raised a hand to knock on Cullen's door, just out of formality, she paused. Inside, there was a noise she couldn't quite make out. It was low at first, and it sounded like a voice, but it sounded like a voice doing....something.

As she listened for a moment longer, she grinned from ear to ear when she realized what it was. As stealthily and quietly as she could, Isobel pushed the door open and somehow managed to smile wider. She covered her lips with her fingers and stared in awe at Cullen, who had his back to her, and was  _singing_.

He had a lovely voice, rich and deep and yet surprisingly adept at a gentle high note. Isobel had heard him sing slightly before, in a crowd in a daze, but the tone that she heard now was absolutely stunning. It didn't seem to matter to him that he was singing a sad song, and he seemed very dedicated to the melody. He was singing one of the little tavern songs that Isobel herself had become fascinated with, performing the elegant trills easily as he sorted through something by the window.

Cullen was only half-singing but Isobel was still entranced. It made her cheeks light up in a blush, and whether or not she was blushing from her spying or from his singing she wasn't sure. All she was sure of was that she _loved_  this.

Sneaking into the room a little ways, she fiddled with her fingers as he reached the chorus of the little tune. She was melting inside at the sound of his voice, just the fact that he had this talent making her adore him all the more. All her previous annoyance, and her plans on scolding him for not coming to her with Leliana's report, drifted away at his song. Isobel had liked to sing. She often sang little songs or lullabies to the young mages back in Ostwick. How lovely would it have been to hear Cullen roaming the halls in her Circle, humming to himself absently.

"What are you doing?" she said at last, just as he was starting a new verse.

" _Ahh!"_ Cullen yelled and spun in a crouch, completely and utterly startled. When he realized it was her, he let out a breath and closed his eyes.

Isobel had jumped at his sudden outburst, but in an instant she was laughing, harder and louder than she had in a long time. She covered her mouth and doubled over even with the riotous noise! She'd never seen Cullen look so caught off guard! And he  _yelled_! _In terror!_

"Alright, stop it now," Cullen complained, holding a hand up as if that would ward her off.

But it didn't. And it couldn't. Isobel was still caught up in giggles as she tried to right herself and cease her amusement. But he was adorable! First, the singing, which she absolutely loved, and then his startled reaction and his blush. Maker how he was blushing! Isobel could see it across the room.

"Are you quite done?" he snapped in forced annoyance. Cullen had to admit that Isobel's boisterous laugh was actually nice to hear. He wished it was not at his expense, however.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said quickly, taking a deep breath and clasping her hands together. "I'm done. I'm sorry."

Cullen sighed. He knew she wasn't done. "Most people knock."

"I knocked," Isobel defended. "Well. I was going to but...Oh how could you expect me to resist? When I realized it was  _you_.  _Singing_."

Cullen rolled his eyes and rubbed at his forehead in exasperation. "Did you need something?" he asked.

She was smirking. "I just came to get Leliana's report from you," she said, trying to stave off giggles from returning. 

"If you stop laughing I'll give it to you," he said.

"That's highly unprofessional, Cullen," Isobel teased, walking forward slightly.

" _This_ is highly unprofessional," he countered, sorting through a few things on his desk and desperately avoiding her eyes.

"Just give me the report," Isobel smiled, crossing her arms and watching him awkwardly fumble. He was so incredibly embarrassed that it made her smile like an idiot. Watching him with little shaking fingers trying to find the right report was endearing, and as she waited Isobel began to hum the tune he had been singing.

He stopped dead and looked up at her unimpressed. And Isobel just burst into laughter again. "Really, Isobel," he scolded lightly, but there was a smile playing on his lips as well.

"I'm just waiting for the report!" she said, as if she didn't know what she was doing to him.

He found it at last and brought it forward, practically shoving it into her hands. "If any of my men walked in without a knock, do you think I would let them off this easily?" Cullen asked, his voice low as he was close to her.

Isobel chuckled. "I expect not," she said. "But you don't love any of them," she added absent-mindedly, quickly casting a glance at the report in her fingers. If she'd kept looking at him, if she'd only let her eyes remained locked to his, she would have seen the glorious transition from silly embarrassment to complete and utter determination.

"I  _do_ love you," he whispered.

Isobel's head snapped up, a little smile still on her lips, until she realized the gravity of the moment. Maker what had she said!? She took a steadying breath in as her eyes went wide. She stared at him like a deer caught by a hunter in the woods. But then it hit her, and her jaw loosened slightly and she felt her tense shoulders fall.

Finally, releasing Cullen from his new horror, Isobel sighed and grinned. "You have a beautiful voice," she said, and before he could look too disappointed, she grabbed the edge of his armoured plate and pulled him down to her lips. She kissed roughly, which wasn't like her usually, and her eyes were shut tight. Cullen brought his hand to her waist softly, and she could feel a smile on his mouth. When Isobel released him, her eyes were shining. "And I love you too."

Cullen beamed as if she had just brightened his entire world, and he gave a short, breathy laugh as she smiled at him. "Thank the Maker," he whispered.

Isobel chuckled and kissed him once more before pulling away. She cast him a blushing little glance over her shoulder, watching as he folded his hands behind his head with his big excited grin, before leaving him to celebrate and gush.

When she closed the door, he started to sing again. It was a happier song, and louder this time, but Isobel felt as if it were for her ears only.


	18. "Tell Me About Ostwick"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about time Isobel shared as much about her life as she now knows about Cullen's.
> 
> (SLIGHT TRIGGER: HARASSMENT/ABUSE Isobel explains what life was like in the Circle, from her young age to the day it fell)
> 
> (Unedited)

When Isobel was eight, she was sent to the circle. At dinner one night, she had accidentally electrocuted her aggravating older brother. He had been pulling her hair, and in a desperate swat to make him stop, she'd shot him out of his chair. He'd landed on the floor with a surprised laugh, and Isobel herself had giggled as well, but when their father stood up at the head of the table Isobel knew nothing good had happened.

She was sent away less than a month later, with her mother regularly assuring her that she would be fine and that they would visit. Poor Lady Trevelyan couldn't have known what she was sending her only daughter to. A carriage took Isobel and a trunk of her finest clothes and dolls far from her home, to a tower that looked to her like a prison the moment she saw it. There were small windows placed intermittently, and one large door that ominously hummed as she passed through it. When that door shut, her world was over.

She was shown to a room which she shared with another girl, one a few years older than herself. The girl, Ingrid, didn't even look up as Isobel was brought in. The Templars guiding her told her who to go to in the morning, and they left her confused and alone.

Isobel's first terror came with waking up to find her trunk was gone. All her clothes and all her toys had been removed, replaced by proper outfits that matched those around her. She dressed without shedding a tear, and made her way to breakfast, which was cold and silent and awful. No one looked at each other, and there were barely audible whispers all around. Templars stood everywhere, leering over children and adults alike. Isobel felt a desire to run to one of the older mages, as if they could make her feel better like her mother did. But she was too afraid to get up.

Her first lesson, and she stood a circle in a large room lined with books. She liked that at least, but everyone still seemed so silent and dutiful. Not in a way Isobel liked, and her curious head looked at this and that with freedom. An Enchanter arrived and began explaining, very quickly, how to create ice. Isobel did her best to listen and keep up, terrified of how suddenly she was thrown into this, and soon the Enchanter was going around the circle demanding each child conjure some ice.

The boy next to her struggled, and when his spell fizzled out, the Enchanter hit him. Right across the face. Isobel gasped and her eyes went wide, but only a few of the other pupil's flinched. Isobel, at her young age, realized even then that this must be common. When they boy tried again and failed, the Enchanter hit him harder and moved on. The boy had silent tears running down his cheeks, and Isobel felt her entire body tense.

She was next.

But she managed it. She managed it with just a will from her mind to please, _please_ get it right. In the palm of her hand, a large snowflake formed as if from the air, and she found herself smiling. Not with pride, but with relief. "Good," the Enchanter said, and in a moment he was past her, moving on to the next student.

It carried on like this for the rest of the day. The focus seemed to be on ice and coldness, small little spells that helped young pupils learn control. And Isobel was talented. She'd never done anything like this, but it was actually thrilling to her to find the power she had in her body. After one accident at dinner, she was creating snowballs on her hands out of nothing.

But others suffered, and she learned quickly to keep her head down.

Once they were released from their lessons, the other students seemed to rush off to somewhere or other. But as Isobel left the classroom, two Templars met her and told her to follow them. She panicked and hesitated, and even at the slight pause they grabbed her arms and almost dragged her down the long corridor. 

At last she was brought before the First Enchanter, a woman who was falsely kind to her. They took Isobel's blood, much to her terror, and stored it in a small vial that was then given to a Templar. She watched it go out the door, away from her eyes, and knew even without knowing what it  _was_ that she was trapped here. That this was the end of the life she'd known.

Nothing would ever be easy for her again. The next morning, Isobel wore her hair up.

***

Years passed like this, and she was thirteen. Her teachers tended to like her, and the other pupils didn't. Isobel had a knack for getting things right on the first try. If she didn't, most of the time she was only yelled at or shoved slightly. She'd been lucky to avoid full on assaults up until now.

As the lessons progressed into more difficult spells, Templars began to be a more common appearance. They would stand guard in her classes and monitor the teenaged mages as if they really were criminals. Isobel often caught the eyes of them on her, always staring, and sometimes whispering.

They worked with lightning, fire, ice, any raw energy that could be focused into a powerful spell. And Isobel discovered her preference for fire and electricity. By thirteen, she could shatter a glass bottle from across a wide room, and light a blaze in a hearth as if it were nothing.

But still, other students around her suffered. The boy she had met when she was new, who she'd watched get slapped, had grown into something of a friend. And they banded together more often than not. But Garrett was a late bloomer, and more than Isobel liked to see, he failed. Every time he lost a spell or it got away from him, he was belittled and beaten. In another moment of practice, he lost a flame and it nearly caught his robe. Isobel watched as, from behind, a Templar lashed out and cracked him in the head with his armoured glove.

Garrett stumbled forward, bumping into the Enchanter who was yelling at him with great fury. In that moment, Isobel rubbed her fingers together nervously and felt sparks blossom at her tips. In a rebellious instant, she shot a little stream of lightning out that caught the Enchanter's ankle. The entire room gasped, and the Enchanter stared at Isobel's blank face with anger.

She knew  _he_ knew she'd done it on purpose. And that made things worse.

He made one gesture to a Templar, and she was being grabbed from the back of her neck and pulled. Isobel gasped and tried to free herself, but the Templar was armoured and strong, and she couldn't get a grip on anything. She saw the room shrink as she was yanked from it, and she dropped her body weight in an attempt to make the Templar struggle. But it only hurt her more.

Isobel was thrown into a cupboard, the door shut on her in the small dark space, and locked. She beat against it as hard as she could, and she sobbed more than she had in years. But no one came to her aide. She was too distraught to even attempt a spell, to even try and burn the door down or blast it open. She didn't think she had the strength when she  _wasn't_ crying. 

And so she sat there for hours, huddled in the corner, softly crying. But soon her sobs turned to anger. And soon, her anger turned to coldness. When someone finally opened the cupboard in search of something, finding the poor girl there, she left and went back to her room as if it had never happened.

Isobel put her hair in a tight braid for the first time the next day.

***

It wasn't until she was sixteen that the Templars bullied her. They bullied everyone up till that point, but it was at this age Isobel began to be harassed. 

They followed her unnecessarily, telling her they'd heard other students threaten to attack her. They told her they were keeping her safe. They told her they had to raid her drawers and clothing in order to make sure no one had left something incriminating or dangerous for her. Two men in particular, only a few years older than her surely, enjoyed picking at her clothes or running their metal gloved hands along her arm.

For the most part, she ignored them, easily brushing by or drowning out their calls to her. But they cornered her. They had access to every room she could ever hide in, and they didn't have to give any explanation as to why they were there, why they followed her and grabbed at her.

Once, she was stopped by them and pressed to the wall. They covered her completely, and she was sure no one would be able to see her if they walked by the hall adjacent. They told her things they could do to her, if she wanted them to. She shook her head and they just kept talking, reaching out every now and then to touch her somewhere. 

That broke her icy exterior, and she shoved them hard and ran. She ran to the First Enchanter, bursting into the room only to find three new, young faces. Each face was lined with tears, and Isobel saw three vials of blood on the First Enchanter's desk. They all looked so young to Isobel, as young as she felt in this moment, but the First Enchanter dismissed them and invited Isobel to sit.

But Isobel's fire was gone. She refused to explain why she'd burst in, but the First Enchanter seemed to realize. She asked Isobel that day to be a helper. She'd noticed Isobel already being a shoulder to cry on for other mages, and she hoped Isobel might help the youth. In her state, she wasn't interested, but as Isobel walked back to her room she made a new discovery.

In the bed that had once housed her indifferent room mate, a young girl now sat staring blankly at the wall, and looking very lost. With a sigh, Isobel entered her room and threw herself down into bed, face first.

It wasn't until the morning that Isobel's countenance shifted, when she woke in the early hours to the sound of sniffles.

"Hey," Isobel said quietly. "Psst. It's alright." The girl across from her rolled over and wiped her face. She had very bright, pale blue eyes and a wide forehead, and her lips seemed to be set in a permanent pout. "I know it's hard," Isobel whispered. "But it will be alright."

"No it won't," the girl whined softly. "The Maker must hate me." Isobel realized that the girl was clutching a book to her chest, a small volume that bore the symbol of the Chantry on the front.

Isobel sighed. "Life is what you make of it," she said. "You'll be alright here...I'll help you. What's your name?"

The girl sniffled. "Abigail."

"Abigail. I'm Isobel," she said sweetly, rolling to lay on her side and stare across at what would become her closest friend.

***

It was because of Abigail that Isobel developed her armoured sense of humour. She would make jokes to put Abigail at ease, or use her sarcasm to deflate tense situations before they could escalate. She owed Abigail her newfound talkativeness, and soon the two of them made more friends together. Garrett joined their group easily, and two other girls, along with one of the young boys Abigail's age.

And soon she had a group, a family, and it got easier for Isobel as the years went by.

Abigail was like her little sister. She was devout and dedicated, showing great promise for healing and defensive magic. She wasn't a fighter, and never would be, but Isobel helped guide her enough to keep punishments from Abigail's pale face.

And soon, Isobel was of age to go for her Harrowing. Which she passed with flying colours. It took a while, longer than she'd wanted it to last, but she'd avoided every obstacle thrown at her in the Fade, and she came through with a blank face and an unscathed mind. Demons had offered her freedom and revenge, a safe escape for the friends she now held so dear, and a return to her beloved mother. But she knew better, and her iron will won over.

When Abigail asked how it was, Isobel had shrugged and winked. "Easy as pie."

It wasn't long after that, however, that Isobel's entire world became very, very difficult.

The rumours of what happened in Fereldan had already been in and out of the Ostwick tower. The blight seemed far away from them, to some degree, as they were encased in their prison away from it all. The First Enchanter had demanded these whispers cease, and soon they did.

But then Kirkwall happened. The rumours that flooded Ostwick then were harder to keep at bay. From a city so nearby, the idea of the Circle being disbanded, and a massive explosion at the Chantry, couldn't possibly be ignored. Templars were the first to get the news, and their whispers inevitably bled into the mages ears. Isobel tried to ignore it, tried not to get involved in the rebellious thoughts of those around her, and she kept Abigail to herself for a long while.

The mages started to change their groupings, friends abandoning friends in favour of dark ideas. The First Enchanter called everyone together one evening, declaring that, unlike their counterparts, the Ostwick Circle would stand as an example of what should be. And Isobel could feel almost the entirety of the room tense. What should be...Ostwick was never what  _should_ be.

And Isobel knew nothing good would come of this declaration.

***

She was asleep, but the sound of a yell and a crash woke her with a start. Sitting straight up in bed, her hair falling around her face in a wild mane, Isobel stared at the shut door. Beside her, in her own bed, Abigail sat awake. She was on the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the sheets and staring wide eyed at the door as well.

"People are shouting," she told Isobel. "I thought I was dreaming but--"

Something outside banged. Loudly. And someone screamed. Abigail gasped, and Isobel threw back the blankets and yanked on her boots. She padded to the door and told Abigail to hush gently, and with a creak she opened it up on an empty hallway. But there was smoke and dust, and the sounds of yelling and screaming.

Isobel slammed the door when she heard another crash and the flash of light. Abigail was moaning softly to herself in fear.

"Get dressed," Isobel said bluntly, turning and running to her own trunk to pull out clothes. 

Abigail did as she was told, but she was confused. "What's happening?" she asked. She was old enough and smart enough to understand, but she hoped and prayed Isobel would tell her she was wrong.

"I don't know," Isobel said, much to Abigail's terror. "But get dressed. Come on." Isobel raided her trunk, digging past all her clothing and all her knick knacks until she found a little purse. Inside, she had hoarded all the money her mother had regularly sent her. At least the money she managed to get her hands on, before the Templars robbed her mail.

"Where did you get all that?" Abigail asked as she pulled her robe up.

Isobel gave a weak smile. "I'm resilient. Come on." She took Abigail's hand and led her out into the hall. It was still empty, but once they were there they could hear the sounds of battle in the distance. Which boded ill.

Abigail gulped. "What are we going to do, Iz?" she asked. "Are we...going to leave?"

Isobel didn't answer. She felt a strength in her chest she hadn't felt in years, and she made her way to the staircase dragging Abigail behind her. They were at the top of the tower, and by the door to the stairs Isobel saw a terrible sight.

Two dead mages, and one dead Templar.

Abigail screamed, and Isobel pulled her into her chest and held her close to keep her eyes off the sight. But Isobel stared. She'd never seen a dead body before, and the look of pure vacancy in their faces unnerved her greatly. But she pressed on, pulling Abigail past as she gently cried--for she was a very delicate soul--and bursting down the stairs.

She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she had to go. If the yelling hadn't been enough, and the sounds of fighting down below, the dead bodies made her realize immediately that it was time. They were half way down the steps when Isobel slammed into another body running  _up_ them. He grabbed her and righted her and she realized who it was.

"Garret!" she yelled.

"Andraste's Ashes!" Garrett grabbed her into a hug. "It's good to see you alive!"

Isobel yanked away, her hand still tight on Abigail's. "What is happening?"

He stared into her eyes intensely. "The Circle is falling."

"What?!"

"It's over, Isobel," he said, far too happily for the death Isobel felt on her heels. "The Templar's are trying but mages are getting out! They blew the doors! I was coming to find you."

"Wait, Garrett, where's the First Enchanter?" Isobel asked. He eyed Abigail a moment before shaking his head. "Is she  _dead_?" Isobel spat.

"A few mages didn't like her peaceful speeches," Garrett said. "She was the first. And it all went from there."

"Maker's breath," Isobel said as Abigail pulled herself closer. "What...Is this because of Kirkwall? Because of what happened?"

Garrett nodded. "The Champion freed us."

"Who?"

"I'll tell you about it once we're free," Garrett said, pulling at Isobel's other hand and guiding her down the stairs. "A few mages know what's happening. All the circles are rising up, Iz, because of two apostates--No,  _free_ mages, who took matters into their own hands."

"The explosion?" Isobel snapped, pulling her hand from his and holding Abigail to her side. "Garrett, people have  _died_.  _Horribly_. Innocent people."

He grabbed her shoulders. "Don't you want to be free?"

Isobel gulped. "Not  _this_ way."

Garrett frowned at her and dropped his hands. "Iz, we have to get out. It's too late now to doubt it. If we stay, they'll kill us." He looked at Abigail a moment, and Isobel tightened her hold on her. "Isobel. We have to."

Isobel gulped. She was terrified that he was right. Part of her just wanted to surrender and hope no one would ask questions. Somehow she'd managed to avoid the brunt of the attack, she and Abigail, and she wanted to go back to that safety. In a tower she hated, in a life she despised, Isobel actually wondered if staying put would be safer.

But Abigail...

She knelt down on the step and looked Abigail in the eye. "Listen, it will be alright, right?"

"Okay," Abigail whined.

Isobel took her hands in hers. "We're going to get out. And we're going to keep running, alright? Don't stop. Don't cast a spell at anyone or anything, just run with me. And don't look back." Abigail nodded, and Isobel was momentarily proud of her. She was proud of herself as well for her foresight. The money in her purse would go far.

In a moment, Isobel, Garrett, and Abigail were running, the sounds of battle getting ever closer. Once they reached the next floor, Isobel stopped. "Garrett wait, you said they blew the doors?"

"Yes," he said, looking this way and that. Isobel was trying to just ignore the signs of blood and death all around.

"Everyone is there then," she said. "We have to find a safer way out."

"There's no other way," Garrett said. "We have to make a break for it."

"The kitchens," Abigail said quietly. Garrett and Isobel looked to her. "There's a service door. It leads into the hills."

Isobel crouched. "How do you know?"

"I help in the kitchens," Abigail said, her face already showing signs of strain. "I know where it is."

Garrett grinned. "That's our way then. Let's go."

They ran to the kitchens, dodging bodies and destruction here and there. Around a corner, just before their final decent, the body of an abomination was strewn across the bricks.

"Maker guide me!" Abigail shrieked, and Isobel herself shut her eyes to the sight. What was happening?!

"Run over it! We don't have time!" Garrett said, reaching for Abigail's hand and ripping her from Isobel's frozen form. Shaking, Isobel followed, but from the carnage she pulled a staff from the hand of a fallen comrade. She had to be prepared, no matter what. She had to get out. She had to get Abigail out.

When they made it to the kitchens, Isobel was shocked to find it vacant. No one seemed to think about the alternate exit, and Garrett ran through to the hidden service door and tried the handle. "It's locked," he said with a terrified palor. He looked at Isobel and saw the staff in her hand. "Break it down," he said.

"I can't do that!" Isobel complained, though she really didn't know  _what_ she could do now. With freedom on her side, perhaps anything was possible.

"There's a key on the mantle," Abigail whimpered, pointing and grabbing for Isobel again. She only wanted one hand in this disaster. 

Garrett rushed to it, fumbling around until he came across a massive brass thing. "Yes!" he cheered, but as he moved back to the door the sounds of metal clinking alerted everyone. 

Templars appeared in the doorway, and Abigail screamed. They rushed at the three mages in an instant, but quicker than she ever expected, Isobel slammed her staff to the ground and ripped a wall of fire from the dusty floor. It blocked them for a moment as Garrett struggled with the door. A Templar cleansed the area, and Isobel struggled to keep the fire hot and high.

"It's open! Come on  _come on!_ " Garrett yelled, and Isobel shoved Abigail in his direction before exploding out a massive ball of electric energy, pushing the Templars back enough to give her room to escape. She'd never had a staff this well channeled before, and her powers tingled in her body with a new found energy.

She slammed the door and grabbed Abigail once more, running for the treelined hills in the distance. 

And for a mere second, Isobel realized something. She was outside. The air was cool, and the dawn was rising, and the wind blew through the leaves and she could feel the sense of freshness all across her body. The ground was grassy and muddy with a light rainfall, and her boots stuck in it only slightly as she bolted across the only open expanse.

A quick look behind her showed her the tower, in a state of decay it seemed, and her old prison. She stared at it for a moment as if she'd never seen it before, and she almost really hadn't. The last time she'd truly been outside of it, she was a scared, naive girl of eight coming to a place she was told would be wonderful. And now, with a Abigail pulling at her arm, and Garrett yelling at her to run faster as Templars yelled and mages fled, she was leaving it.

***

Cullen stared at Isobel as she looked out into the night. They stood on her little balcony, scantily dressed and romantically inclined, but he had asked her a question he now wish he hadn't. "Maker's...Maker's breath," he whispered softly.

"I told you," she said slowly, "you don't want to know."

"I am glad you told me," he corrected her. "But I am sorry I asked all the same. I didn't mean to make you go through it again."

"You didn't," she said sweetly, sliding closer to him. "You didn't, I just...It's an odd thing to remember."

He turned towards her. "Why?"

Isobel shrugged. "It doesn't feel like my life now. It's like I couldn't possibly have been that young girl coming to the Circle. I couldn't have been the one seeing all these horrible things, being treated so poorly. It just...doesn't seem like me now."

Cullen reached out and pulled her to his arms, and Isobel let herself have this moment. She rested her head against his chest and he stroked her back softly. "For all that you've been through," he said, "you've become an amazing woman."

She smiled. "My trials have given me character," Isobel joked. "Like a certain someone else," she added, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He laughed softly and kissed the top of her head. "I'm grateful to you for telling me. I never imagined life being that awful for mages."

"Ostwick was maybe an exception," Isobel said. "I think I would have preferred Tevinter."

Cullen laughed again and pulled back to look at her. "I'm sure Dorian would be thrilled to hear it." She giggled lightly and dropped her head, but Cullen lifted her chin back up and leaned in to kiss her sweetly. Every thought she had always melted at the touch of his lips, as if he had the power to cleanse her of all negative emotion. Just with that little touch. The memory of her hardships mixed with the sweetness of his love for her left her in a dreamy state, and soon they retired to bed. Two well-worn people of the world, with their own hardships to bear, finding comfort in each other. No mages, no Templars, no terrors. Just normalcy.

That was all she really wanted.


End file.
